THE MAN WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD
by NativeMoon
Summary: ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places. SS/OC
1. Witness

**Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask. JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers.**

**Summary: Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**Alternate Universe. This story is rated T.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 001: Witness**

He could not remember the last time he ate a proper meal; the last time he had anything that closely approximated food. He was hungrier than he would have ever believed possible; hungrier, dirtier and angrier than he'd ever been in his life. But he would not cower; would not surrender.

Severus Snape resisted yielding to the ever-increasing temptation to scrounge like a gutter rat for a few crumbs. He still had his damnable pride.

He shivered from the cold and pulled the coat tight around him; it didn't quite fit and that only served to annoy him. But winter was coming early and beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd stolen it when the opportunity presented itself from Muggles with not a care in the world as they celebrated their luck and the benevolence of the Almighty in their dominance of all they surveyed. He had observed them with increasing hatred as they sat on the terrace of what was obviously an excusive restaurant. They ordered the staff about as if they were slaves. He laughed ruefully at the thought of them – the workers who despised their Masters for being at their beck and call; being subject to every whim. They were slaves to the desperate hope that the Lords and Ladies Muck would make their enslavement financially worthwhile. How much he understood their unenviable predicament – though financial gain had never been a particular interest of his.

Snape had watched as platter after platter of all manner of delicacies was placed before them by the low-paid staff highly skilled in the art of serving that was Silver Service. Methuselahs of vintage champagne appeared – money was no object and it most certainly wasn't to be thrown about so recklessly. He'd never had neither money nor the carefree attitude towards it that these dunderheads had to turn their noses up at the culinary expertise of a chef with 4 Michelin stars to his name.

_Merlin's Beard;_ how he despised them and those like them! And given that untenable fact felt no remorse at relieving one of them of his coat after trailing his victim to the restrooms. He who had only ever existed in the shadows was not seen or heard as he broke yet another vow and turned thief.

He was now no better than that vile Mundungus Fletcher.

_Fletcher._

The reason he was in this unholy mess. Him and Potter – Potter who, to his detriment, had still not learned to keep his mind closed and his mouth shut. He could not care about either anymore – Potter's refusal to trust his former Potions Master had cost Fletcher his life and almost cost Potter his.

Thanks to those imbeciles Snape had managed to be somewhere he shouldn't have been; and in so doing he'd managed the unthinkable – he was witness to an unholy alliance the likes of which shook him to the depths of his magical core. And no thanks to that wretched dunderheaded Boy Who Lived, he was found out. He was found out, but could not fight it. And the one person who could have helped him was near death himself. Albus Dumbledore, the supposed Greatest Wizard of the Age was on the verge of becoming just another painful memory – and publicly.

And Potter was in more mortal danger than ever. The Boy Who Thought He Knew Better Than His Former Potions Master had refused to listen to the truth that was laid bare before his eyes. The Failed Chosen One had refused to listen and instead called a guard of Aurors and Order members.

Snape had always been blamed for all manner of things not of his doing and this time had been no different – but it was far more dangerous this time; there was far more at stake here. The former Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had battled to save his own life, putting some distance between himself and his accusers.

But his luck could not hold out forever; not against the Ministry of Magic.

However, to be confronted with the political minefield that was the Ministry would have been a singular blessing; but the situation was far graver then he and Dumbledore had ever anticipated it could ever become. And now the Headmaster lay near death; and for many his death seemed an absolute certainty.

Snape was one of those people.

Without Dumbledore there was no hope against the Ministry and Lord Voldemort.

What the Potions Master wouldn't give to undo this mess!

He had tried not to venture too far from communities with a sizable wizarding population to keep up with the news. But it was suicidal to do so now with Aurors and Dementors scouring the country looking for him, though unofficially. He was to be the recipient of the Dementor's Kiss without so much as a closed-door trial at the Ministry of Magic; that was the only thing he was sure of at the moment.

_The Ministry – God Almighty their betrayal was unconscionable. _

The wizarding community had no idea of what lay before them and Snape was not a man that anyone would listen to. Not even Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix would give him the time of day. They pronounced their judgment and turned on him as one body – led by Potter, McGonagall and Lupin.

_He was damned no matter what he did – or didn't do…_

Without Dumbledore to confirm that Snape was indeed on the side of the good, the Potions Master had had no choice but to flee.

He was running alright; running for his life with this sinking feeling that matters were bound to get far worse before they could conceivably get any better.


	2. Fallen

**Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask. JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers.**

**Summary: Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**Alternate Universe. This story is rated T.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 002: Fallen**

He was surprised at how quickly it had taken. With no money, and no realistic opportunity to secure funds in any way, he'd had no choice. And that's how it began – the improbable was rendered excusable and that was that.

His descent into the hell that was living rough was now absolute; the deprivation of basic necessities so overwhelmed him that he very nearly lost his mind before giving in to his needs. There was no point in being so proud if his innate stubbornness brought about his death prematurely. He found himself scouring the garbage left to rot behind eating establishments and bakeries.

Snape, who had been so peculiarly particular about his food and how it was prepared, now found that his discerning palate tolerated anything and everything as long as there was no cost to him. Even the vermin that populated some areas began to look appealing as his desperation increased.

He could sink no lower than this.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape's instincts told him that the likelihood of being captured had significantly increased. He slept fitfully by day well hidden from any chance discovery – but only for the moment. He moved through undeniable exhaustion at night from town to town, village to village. If he remained on the British Mainland he would surely be caught. With that realization the reality of needing to head offshore had become more and more obvious.

Going to Continental Europe was the most sensible solution as it would take him well outside of the Dark Lord's grasp and Ministerial interest. With his looks, Eastern Europe provided the best possible cover. On the other hand, he would never have the opportunity to right the wrongs against his name – and that was not something his pride would allow. And Dumbledore was still clinging to life, albeit feebly from the last snatch of news he'd managed to catch. Given the entirety of the situation, he could not leave the British Isles altogether. Had he been stereotypically Slytherin to his magical core, Snape would not have hesitated to leave by any means necessary.

That was the way of cowards; and not being anything near typical, Severus Snape was anything but.

There was one option that could be quite useful indeed; and the more Snape thought it over, the more it made sense. Nothing was known about his family; in particular no one knew that his mother had been born in Jersey and spoke fluent French along with Jerais, the local tongue. He had spent time there occasionally growing up and had reasonable enough memories of the place.

Jersey was 100 miles from mainland Britain but only 14 miles from the Northern coast of France, the island Crown Dependency was considered to be part of the British Isles, but it was not part of the United Kingdom – and therefore outside of its governance. It had close governance ties with Basse-Normandie; something that could be quite useful. How fortunate it was that like his mother, Snape also knew French and Jerais. No one else was aware of this, not even the Headmaster. All things being equal, most reasonable outcome was that he should endeavour to get himself to Jersey as soon as possible.

Snape couldn't use magic to get himself there; as there was no doubt that the British Ministry of Magic was tracking him. That was the one thing that always caught wizards and witches on the run – the limited capacity for logic and reasoning for most of them almost assuredly let to them using magic for some manner of foolishness. Being a Half-Blood he knew his way around Muggles as well as any Muggle with non-magical ties.

He would make his way to the Jersey ferry terminal in Poole and then let fate dictate how he would get himself on one undetected to cross Channel.

**xxxOOOxxx**

His luck was holding out and yet he found himself praying silently; willing whatever it was that was up there rolling the die to give him Snake Eyes. It had taken three weeks of ducking and dodging – but at last he'd made it to the outskirts of Poole in Dorset after one of the worst snowfalls in recent memories. Again he slept fitfully during the day in a hidey-hole he'd secured and then came out at night to finally make his way to the Ferry.

Snape had just rounded the corner from the ruins of an old abandoned factory when he felt it. A cold that was unlike any other washed over him as the stars flickered off as if from the click of a light switch. His insides curled up into themselves.

'**NO!'** he screamed in his mind. **'NO!'**

The Dementors – a full detail of guards from Azkaban, the wizarding prison – were swarming the town. The Muggle inhabitants of Poole couldn't see them, but the unseasonable cold forced them behind cold doors where it was warm and they felt…good. Something about this latest snowstorm made everyone positively miserable – as if the sun would never shine again. They just wanted the eerie mist that had settled over everything to lift…

Snape could see the Dementors gliding in and out of the shadows. They didn't like bright light particularly so avoided it where possible. This was impossible – against one or two at the most he might be alright; but not against a horde of them.

He forced himself to calm down and to empty his mind and being of all emotion. It would be the only thing that could save him; using the Patronus Charm against them was out of the question. But his hiding place was far safer than being out here in the open. Jersey would just have to wait.

The former professor moved back towards the old factory, watching his steps carefully. Minutes felt like hours as he out-manoeuvred his would-be guards and made it back to relative safety. He had just placed the last brick back in the wall that concealed his whereabouts when the ungodly cold washed over him again followed by a freakish glowing fog.

The Dementors were checking the old factory and were making their way towards the area that he was in. Snape half-closed his eyes and shut down emotionally – more so than was usual. He hadn't come this close to only to have it all go belly-up at the moment of his deliverance from absolute evil.

Merlin help him, he needed to make it through this.


	3. Out of Darkness

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. This story is rated T.**

**Summary: Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 003: Out of Darkness **

_Two days._

Snape estimated that his entombment had been at least that: Two days without food; two days of relieving himself in his pants; two days of an unholy nightmare that seemed to have no end. He hadn't dared think of anything, lest it drew the Dementors to him.

He had not thought of the unbearable smell of feces and urine that obliterated whatever lasting vestige of his dignity and the sandalwood scent that might have lingered on his filth encrusted skin. He would not think of the hunger that overwhelmed him and threatened his focused emptiness. He refused to contemplate the rats and parasites that had lay siege to his form and claimed it as their own. Nor did he ponder the possibility that the longer the Dementors overran the town, the more likely it was that he would be discovered. He sat motionless and devoid of any semblance of sentience as though he were a man of tin or scarecrow of straw.

Finally the eerie fog lifted from the factory and he could get himself out of his hiding place. It took over an hour before the feeling came back into his legs and he could move without pain. Being in the presence of the Dementors sapped the strength from a magical being; Chocolate was the most effective remedy and was sorely needed now; but a hot shower and clean clothes were far more important. He needed to get off the mainland sooner rather than later and travel on the ferry was impossible in his current vagrant state.

He would have to lower himself to another level of hell and secure both the means by which to cleanse himself and the clothes he needed. With any luck chocolate would be in the immediate vicinity. His principles be damned – this was survival.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape stood on the hill where the factory was located; a hill that enjoyed a scenic panorama of the historic town. The Dementors had moved on and were heading deep into the countryside.

_Thank Merlin_ (he didn't believe in God, actually).

It was time to get to work. He knew exactly what he was looking for. Nothing too ostentatious (he was not one to call attention to himself and it would be suicidal given his predicament); nothing outrageous (as he himself most definitely was not); and nothing that was bright (as neither most definitely were not attributes which he had ever been in possession or capable of). Persons who veered towards his own peculiar idiosyncrasies were not likely to live in the most opulent of homes, he thought; fortunately for him the old factory was situated in a rather salubrious part of town, far off the beaten tourist track. This was where he would find the accoutrements for the way forward.

He detested taking anything from anyone, especially the less fortunate; but his drive to survive outweighed the guilt that plagued him about what must be done.

**xxxOOOxxx**

The old house had seen better days, that much was certain.

It was ideally situated, being detached and set back from the road. He had tried seven houses on different roads without success. The inhabitants were clearly present in five of them and that would never do. The other two had clothes far too small and large for him so there was little point to bothering with cleaning up to only have to put back on his foul, soiled clothing. He walked further on, away from the factory until he found a section of town not quite as bad as the last, but definitely a rung up the ladder. The houses were all detached surrounded by ample greenery on somewhat spacious ground to the front and rear. The streets themselves were thick with trees – a blessing if there ever was one.

It was the perfect cover for the plunge into his new life as a criminal.

He knew that this house was the one after a tour around the perimeter which revealed post that had not been collected for several days. There was several filled milk bottles to the rear of the building, outside what must be the kitchen door. Whoever lived here had left in a hurry and had given no thought to the finer details as they prepared to leave and whilst they were gone.

Fletcher would have creamed his pants with such golden opportunities as this provided.

The old kitchen door had been easily forced and Snape eased his way in soundlessly. A quick and careful check revealed neither owner nor Dementor. _Good_; but he would not linger longer than necessary. He quickly found his way to the main bedroom, complete with en-suite bathroom; whoever lived here liked modern conveniences. En-suites were not remotely possible in the less than salubrious environs of his former home in Spinner's End.

This house was a castle compared to his old one.

The built-in wardrobes and chests of drawers revealed that a man did indeed live here, a man not too far off in stature from his own. Further investigation revealed a storage room filled with clothes in rubbish bags, tagged for a charity of some sort. He would take just enough to see him through and only what he could reasonably carry. There was an ample selection to choose from, but he did not want to touch them until he was thoroughly clean.

It had been so long since he'd been thoroughly clean from his hair to his toenails; he couldn't remember when hot water had felt this good next to his skin. It had pained him to see his reflection in the mirror over the sink. Grimy and unkempt; a full beard when he had always detested facial hair; dark shadows and bags ringed his eyes. He had two hot-showers that took an hour in total. He shaved meticulously so that there was no hint of the fluffiness left on his face. It had taken far longer than getting clean should have, but these were extraordinary circumstances which called for unusual measures he would not normally have considered.

The storage room also revealed a large rucksack and carry-all that could be carried across the shoulders. He did not dare turn on the lights and instead made due with the bright moonlight streaming in the windows. The clothes had not yet acquired the musty scent that came from being packed away for too long. Whoever lived here was having a good clear-out which had been undertaken recently.

Snape could not bear to contemplate putting on used underwear even if it was newly laundered, but he took them all the same. Beggars could not be choosers, he reminded himself as he put on a pair. Next were a white shirt, black jumper and jeans. There were several good pairs of jeans along with some which were decidedly worn. He took them along with several jumpers and shirts. The clothes were a bit large on his skeletal frame, but now was not the time to be pernickety. There were two pairs of construction boots and a pair of black loafers. They were slightly larger than he would have liked, but given the weather and need for, they would serve him well – especially with the two layers he was wearing to protect himself from the cold.

A heavy woolen slate-coloured coat and battered old hat completed his new ensemble. His old things were chucked into a rubbish bag; he could easily get rid of them when the opportunity presented itself in Jersey.

He moved quickly to the kitchen after dressing. He needed some chocolate badly. A quick rummage through the cupboards revealed drinking chocolate – not ideal but useful. He spied the refrigerator and had a quick look through its contents. There on the bottom shelf was a thick slab of Green & Black's – a superior Muggle brand because of its high level of purity. He grabbed it and wolfed down half immediately. Warm returned to his body and a newfound strength. His mind was crystal clear again and the world of the living was no longer closed off to him.

Snape surveyed the fridge and cupboards and took enough food to see him through for a few days with careful rationing: bread, cheese, squeezable peanut butter and jam, more chocolate and a small parcel of cook meats. He packed these things neatly in his rucksack along with the shaving things, toothbrush and toothpaste he'd taken from the other houses and prepared to leave after having a quick sandwich. The rubbish bag with his old clothes was tucked in a sturdy tote that he found in the kitchen. Anyone seeing him would think he was off on a holiday, skiing perhaps in the Alps.

Whoever lived here was well off enough to be throwing away perfectly good clothes. He had poked around further and found a bit of Muggle money in a basket on top of a bookcase. Not a very smart move, but one that delighted him just the same. He put the basket back exactly as he'd found it and then picked up his bags.

He was so careful that no one would ever know that he'd even been there, even if for some strange reason they started doing a house-to house search of Muggle homes.

**xxxOOOxxx**

The new day had not yet dawned by the time Snape set off for the ferry. After a short walk he came to a bus stop that indicated the next bus was due momentarily. It was headed towards the docks – perfect. It was better to take a chance with Muggle transport than to spend half a day wearing himself out with walking, weighed down by his bags. Besides, he did not want to have to take an even bigger risk and go back into hiding. Using the advantages of traveling in such dismal weather he pulled his hat lower, wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck and face so that only his black eyes showed; black eyes not entirely clear because of the glasses he was wearing.

_Glasses_ – something else that no one knew anything about.

The tired bus driver could care less anyway.

'One, to town,' Snape said in his oily voice.

He deposited his money on a little tray the hung off the driver's door and then took the paper ticket that appeared from a machine after the man pushed a couple of buttons. He resisted a smirk as he took his seat and counted the minutes as the bus rolled along.

He was almost free.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape alighted several blocks away from the ferry with two other passengers. It had surprised him that even in the dead of night it was full on the Night Bus in a provincial town like Poole. However, should enquiries to ever be made he didn't want to provide any leads. There may have been others getting off for the Ferry later, but he was not to be counted among them.

Fortunately his stop was a major construction site and with his attire it made perfectly good sense. He walked over to the site and walked abound the perimeter fence that had a large arrow pointing to the Builder's Entrance. Hearing the bus leave, he kept on walking to the next street over, following the scent of the English Channel.

He looked up at the signage on the nearest corner and sure enough, the way was being pointed to Ferry Terminal. Inwardly he let out a sigh of relief, but he had a long way to go before Jersey became a reality.

**xxxOOOxxx**

The terminal was heaving with people scrambling to book passage on the next this-or-that out of here. There were ferries to France, Belgium, the Netherlands and all of the Channel Islands, including Jersey. Identification was not required to get to his destination; just the means to get himself there. What little money he had needed to be conserved, he thought. But he did have enough for a ticket. Fortunately tickets were checked at the barrier rather than on board. With the number of passengers, freight and cars on board there was little time for that. He reached the barrier and found the ferry beyond would be the only one to Jersey that day due to the inclement weather. There was not enough room on board for all who wanted to travel. Priority was to be given to island residents first but only with verification of residency, the transport worker shouted out.

The ever-increasing mass of humanity was on the verge of falling apart. Snape didn't care about anyone else and he was resolved that he would be one to make aboard. There was shouting now and a heavy pushing forward as people fought each other for a place. The barrier gave way and the sea of humanity surged forward as the last call was sounded. Snape wasted no time – he pushed forward at a hard run and didn't stop once he made it on board. He moved quickly up several flights of stairs to one of the cruiser cabins where he secured a seat away from prying eyes. There was a slight shudder and with a faint sigh of relief his mind engaged his senses in the feeling of moving forward. He peered out the window to his left and would not feel for the people stranded in England; screaming parents with crying children; old people wanting to be home surrounded by warmth and familiarity; those embarking on a new life of togetherness.

_Or perhaps even those like him running towards unknown future with the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse that was their past riding hard at their backs._

He looked further down the coastline as the ferry moved out to sea. The Dementors were taking hold of yet another seaside town, suffering under the illusion that their prey would be sniffed out. Sniffed out like vermin on the scent of a few crumbs…and then snuffed out completely as though he had never even existed….

He forced himself to look ahead at the lights of Jersey glittering tantalisingly ahead.

For the first time in days, Severus Snape began to think of the future he had not prepared himself for. His would have to be a solitary life of complete anonymity. There would be no friends, no intimacies. He would neither seek out company nor be the sort that others sort out to ease their own solitude.

_It would be no different to the life he'd always led, minus the magic and the destructiveness of the wizarding world._

_Survival _was the only thing that mattered. He needed to establish himself discreetly in some fashion and then find a way to secure news of what was happening in Britain. His damnable pride – and the art of self-preservation would not allow him to settle for anything less.

He needed to clear his name, somehow…and stay alive in the process.

**xxxxxxxxx ****xxxxxxxxx ****xxxxxxxxx**

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My thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing; its greatly appreciated and encourages me to go on.

**Liria** LOL – Welcome to my little world and thank you. Just wait a dozen or so chapters down the line; you may come to abandon this fic. I can only say I have yet to write anything that didn't involve an exploration of love or intimacy – even if its star-crossed and not meant to be.

**The Dark Lord's Most Faithful** – Thank you very much indeed for checking out what I am doing here. Very high compliments indeed from such a great writer as you definately are and I hope I can live up to them. Welcome to my strange world. I always like to fill in the blanks from the character's point of view – hoping to give more of an insight into the possibilities. There are so many directions one could go in with Snape. I don't see him as wholly good or anything near evil. He's not a nice man at all – but he is a good man in important ways, I think, who does have his pride and peculiar honour.

**Duj** – Glad to see you again! This is an _Alternate Universe_ story so just forget the finer details of Canon. Certain Canon facts may creep in at various stages but the story is a completely independent work. I hope you can tough this one out, this is turning out to be very different again from what I have done before. And the title may not be so obvious as it appears at the moment grin

**SupportSeverusSnape **– Welcome! I have to say my chapters are usually at least 5,000-10,000 words in length! The central part of the story which will get played out in later chapters was just a vague notion, and then everything else has dropped into place to get to that point. I was testing the waters with the first chapter and given such a good response right off the bat (highly unusual for me!) I was inspired to take it forward. The chapters will build in length hopefully as the story progresses. Glad you enjoyed it enough to read the second chapter and to want more.

**Everyone**: Thanks very much for the support and encouragement.


	4. Les Jèrriaises

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. This story is rated T.**

**Summary: Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 004: Les Jèrriaises**

It started halfway across the Channel. The murmurs amongst the crew speaking Jèrriais was that they were gearing up for the storm of the century. The ferry would be out of operation indefinitely once they docked in its capital, Saint Helier. The air was thick with snow and the twinkling lights of Jersey that had been observed upon cast-off were now completely obscured. The ferry slowed down to a crawl – but Snape was feeling very fortunate indeed.

After a time the crawl slowed even more to a faint put-put; there was a sudden lurch and then everything stopped.

'_Beinv'nu a Jerri! Bienvue a Jerri! Welcome to Jersey!'_ came a voice over the tannoy followed by disembarkation instruction for those who were from the Island and Mainland UK, the EU and other points of national origin. 'Il est sept heuthes et d'mie!'

'_Seven thirty in the morning; I should have been in my office, preparing for breakfast in the Great Hall,'_ Snape thought to himself.

As quickly as the thought rose from the depths of the quagmire that was his brain he forced it back down. It would not do to dwell on such things. He would not torture himself with the thought that for all the reasons he'd had hate Hogwarts and plot the day that he might actually leave the place of his own volition, he now would give a great deal to be safely ensconced within its hallowed walls.

_Hate._

There was indeed a thin line between Hate…and Love… He didn't believe in love and love didn't believe in him. The word rarely entered his formidable vocabulary.

For everything he had hated about the place, and the denizens he had despised; there were things that…intrigued him; things that enchanted him still.

**xxxOOOxxx**

The former professor rose carefully after stretching his cramped legs. He would not be the first to leave, nor would he be the last. He collected his things and eased himself into a throng of people clamouring to get off the ship. He simply let himself go almost limp and be carried through immigration with other British and Jersey nationals who did not require identity documents.

Snape found his feet and kept walking, ignoring the aromas of coffee that permeated the terminus along with that of wetness due to the weather. He had a quick look around – at least the folk in Jersey seemed to have far more sense than those back on the mainland. With the exception of one coffee shop, all retail establishments showed no sign of opening; there were no hordes screaming to be free, fighting for a place near the barricades. The passengers disembarking from this last ferry for some time was all there was aside from necessary staff.

No one with the means to get to their destination had any intention of lingering. Snape didn't have a destination, but he had no intention of making the terminus his home and he knew enough that it wouldn't have been allowed. He strode quickly now, wanting to savour the reality of being free. He emerged in a raging blizzard. St. Helier was a beautiful town – but there was little to be seen of it in weather like this. He looked at the taxi rank which was empty; it was foolish to even think about it. He could easily spend what little he had just on the ride alone.

How the hell would he make it to the far side of the island in weather like this? His glasses were wet with snow and he tucked them in a pocket. He only needed them for reading, but they served a useful purpose as no one had been looking for a bespectacled man. His clothes made him look a lot heavier than he was, given his malnourishment – not a bad thing either. He swore in Jèrriais as he looked around. His bony shoulders sagged slightly as he dropped his bags on the pavement with a hard thud. He could barely see the streetlight in front of him.

'Bouônjour à matîn,' came a voice interrupting his thoughts. 'Comment va?'

'Comme eune pouque mouoillie…' came Snape's snarky reply.

For the English it would have been considered extremely rude, but on Jersey it was the exact opposite. They would find great humour in his response that he was like an old wet bag when asked how he was – the response was typically Jèrriais.

Snape turned to his right to see a burly man standing with a woman who had clearly not enjoyed the trip from England – or her husband's laughter at the stranger.

'Oh for heaven's sake, can we drop the countryside colloquialisms? Is it so terribly bad to speak in English?' she huffed. 'It's damned rude for a start!'

'English is for the English – I am Jèrriais…' the man answered. 'You will just have to accept it and learn. Jèrriais is the language of the Parish. You did not marry un rosbif; you married me…'

'Bouônjour à matîn; good morning,' Snape mumbled as the man once again turned his attention to him.

Good Lord – of all people they could bother, why him?

'You seem like a man in need of a ride,' the man offered in Jèrriais, which only served to vex the woman next to him even more.

'Yes,' Snape sighed, thinking that she had a face like a slapped arse. 'I rather suppose that I am.'

'Where to then?'

'The far side of the island…' Snape said vaguely.

The man looked at Snape appraisingly and seemed to understand that though he was definitely Jèrriais – he hadn't been home in a long time. He probably didn't have a home to go to as such to not know straight away where he was going. The man could only wonder out loud why the mainlander had come back – and why he had left in the first place.

'You don't have a place to stay, do you?' he said finally. 'You are welcome to come with us – to St. Martin Parish, the finest in all of Jerri.'

Snape didn't answer and instead picked up his things and started to walk. The man started to follow and the woman berated him in English for sticking his nose in other people's business. The man caught up to Snape and offered his apologies for saying something that he would have been better to keep to himself.

'I didn't mean anything by it…' he said earnestly. 'You sound typically Jèrriais when you speak the language, but when you speak English it is obvious that you were raised on the mainland…there is no Jerri accent…it's quiet… a paradox, as you say in English.'

'If you will excuse me – I _do _have somewhere to be…'

'I don't mean to pry. Look – it's suicide to be out in this weather. I'm Guillaume D'Arcy and my wife is Elizabeth. You are welcome to come with us, and if you like perhaps I can help you with getting settled; that is if you are intending to make Jerri your home?'

'D'Arcy? – one of the old Jèrriais families… Do you make it a habit to pick up strangers Monsieur D'Arcy?'

'As a matter of fact, yes on both counts. Some might think it foolish – but I would like to think that if I or any of my family and friends were in need, that someone would help them too…'

'The world is not in agreement and I can't imagine that any in your family would ever be in a situation to require such assistance as the likes of which you offer me.'

'We have done, that I can assure you. And I do think it is most unfortunate that the world is not Jèrriais…_Monsieur_… Tch'est qu'est vot' nom?'

'_Ravenscroft_, Sebastian Ravenscroft…'

'Pleased to meet you. We are not formal people, Monsieur Ravenscroft; just call me D'Arcy as everyone else does. We can carry on this discussion over a nice hot café au lait and a croque-madame at the house...' Monsieur D'Arcy said as he turned back towards his wife who had stormed over to their four-by-four to get out of the weather.

'And what does your wife make of your penchant for picking up strays?'

'Little more than she does of my beloved Jerri…or me…' came a sad reply.

**xxxOOOxxx**

The tension was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Snape didn't say much on the drive to the D'Arcy home. When they finally stopped it was an immense relief. There was nothing worse than being in such a tight and confined space with a couple at war. Guillaume and Elizabeth D'Arcy were at serious odds with each other and there was no love lost between them, only a dunderhead would ignore the obvious.

Yet again, Severus Snape had confirmation that love, romance and marriage and all it entailed was utter folly.

He had learned that from his parents…and then from _her_.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape followed as D'Arcy showed him to one of the spare bedrooms to get cleaned up for brunch. There had been too much snow, wind and ice to make out the frontage of the property as they pulled up just outside the front door, but once inside he could see that his saviour was quite well off indeed. There were six bedrooms alone spread throughout the property.

'It is easy to be so hospitable when one can easily afford to be so,' the former professor thought snidely to himself.

He could not understand why anyone should risk their neck for someone they didn't know. For all D'Arcy knew, the man he was trying to make a friend could be a deranged psychopath. Elizabeth D'Arcy certainly thought so and didn't hesitate to say it. She was typically bourgeois English.

Jersey had the dubious distinction of having an extremely low crime rate. Rape and murder were almost unheard of here – though he wondered if it was a matter of simply being covered up and unpublicised. He was at least sure that did he have any ill intent, it wouldn't be long before the long arm of Jèrriais law tracked him down. Snape couldn't find fault with Madame D'Arcy's reasoning in some respects, but he deeply resented the aspersions she cast against his character. He had spent the whole of his life being judged unfairly, having every aspect of his manner and countenance picked apart.

He was no longer in a situation where people had to tolerate him who clearly did not want to be bothered to know him, let alone like him. And he most certainly did not have to tolerate anyone for reasons other than his own.

**xxxOOOxxx**

It was good to have a hot shower and fresh clothes, even though they weren't his or even new. His room was generously proportioned and had its own bathroom. He tried to find fault with the accommodation but couldn't. It was decidedly impressive, as no doubt it was meant to be for those that came for a stay.

Snape came down to the dining room dressed simply in his usual monochrome fashion. His hair was lanky even after being freshly washed and he took a rubber band that he'd found and pulled most of it back securing at the nape of his neck. He looked anything but a gentleman to the fastidious Madame D'Arcy; she didn't need to say a word for it was written all over her face.

He took a seat resentfully, sat across from her as he was. It would have been ludicrous for her to be seated at the other end of the long table when there were only three of them, her husband had snapped as Snape neared the room. He had held himself back and heard all that he was willing to take from that woman.

Even on Jersey, he could not escape condemnation.

The sooner the storm let up, the sooner he could be gone.

**xxxOOOxxx**

The conversation was stilted and forced. D'Arcy wisely steered it to the island and the goings on in the Parish.

'We're mostly farmers and fisherman here in the Parish of Saint Martin le Vieux, as it's always been. My family made much of its fortunes on agriculture and tenancies. Our situation has changed little in the last two centuries.'

'A gentleman farmer – _how quaint_… and terribly understated I can assure you,' his wife sniffed before directing a servant about the proper way to set the food on the table.

'_How in Merlin's name did these two end up married being so ill-suited for each other?'_ Snape thought to himself as yet another killing curse of a silence fell between them.

Elizabeth brought peace to the table simply by leaving the two men to finish their brunch in peace after finding fault with everything put before her. If it was not English she seeemed determined to not like it.

'You won't find a better meal to be had anywhere in the world…' D'Arcy sighed before tucking into his second helping of Crepes with flat mushrooms, cherry tomatoes, basil and Jersey cheddar cheese. A perfectly fried egg with soft yolk was placed on top and garnished with spring onion.

The farmer explained that all the produce was local and organic during the growing and harvesting season. There were some who experimented with greenhouses in winter, but he himself was quite reluctant. It just didn't seem natural.

The instincts of his former role as Potions Master kicked in, and Snape was able to engage in conversation that turned somewhat spirited (well, spirited enough for him) on the subject of agricultural cultivation in greenhouses, particularly with non-native species.

'You sound like a man who speaks from solid experience, Mr. Ravenscroft...'

'I am not inexperienced, no. I have always had an interest in ethnobotany and herbalism…even when I was younger than yourself.'

'Yours is quite a well-informed interest, if I may say so.'

Snape did not reply and instead popped another baguette slice in his mouth.

'I would like you to meet a friend of mine; you could be of great help…'

'Thank you but no, I other matters that need attending to.'

'Oh – _I see_…'

D'Arcy fell silent, but Snape could see that he was greatly disappointed.

They ate in silence and then the farmer decided to change his tactics.

'You will be in need of a living, will you not?' he asked Snape hesitantly.

Snape dabbed at his mouth with his serviette and then tossed it on the table. That was certainly true enough. The money in his rucksack wouldn't get him very far. Like the mainland, Jersey was very expensive. And unlike there, outsiders couldn't just come in and snap up property even if they had the means to do so. The island government safeguarded the interests of its inhabitants very carefully, far better than the British Parliament at Westminster did for its own.

'As it so happens, I will…' the former Potions Master answered tersely.

'Well – I don't exactly know what line of work you were in, Ravenscroft, but the living here is mainly agricultural and maritime industries; any other enterprise stems from those, outside of the odd tourist or two now and then.'

'I aim to put my hand to whatever opportunity presents itself.'

'So you are looking for paid work then?' D'Arcy said eyeballing Snape's scarred hands and less than fashionable attire. The man was clearly working class and was used to making a living using his hands.

The former professor's face turned the colour of soured milk. He was not one of the landed gentry or anything near aristocratic like this Muggle was. He had to do his own dirty work and didn't have the means to pay others to do it for him. He was not going to justify having to do so to anyone and he would be damned if he was going to be made to feel bad because of it.

'_As I said, I aim to put my hand to whatever opportunity presents itself.'_

The farmer nodded but did not say another word on the subject and directed the conversation back to the Parish and its goings on.

'There are noticeboards up in the Public Hall advertising all manner of things,' he said. If you want to know what's what – the hall was a good place as any to start with. I would be happy to take you down when the weather clears, introduce you to our little society…'

Snape nodded faintly as he mulled it over. His host was merely pointing out the obvious – if there were jobs and rental accommodation to be had, it would be in the form of a notice in the Public Hall for a start. He needed a place to live and a job; he wouldn't survive the night if he had to sleep rough. Still, no one ever did something for nothing; there was always a price to pay – too high a price.

'And what I am expected to do in return for such benevolence?'

The farmer looked at Snape as if he'd lost his mind as a phone rang in the distance.

'I ask nothing and you owe me as much. You struck me as a man in need, Mr. Ravenscroft. There have been times in my past when I would have sold my _cowardly_ soul to L'Dgiâbl'ye himself for the consideration you currently enjoy.'

'You – a coward? Cowards are not in the habit of risking their necks for a stranger, Mr. D'Arcy.'

'Ah – well; my wife would disagree with you there…'

D'Arcy looked pained and Snape was beginning to truly consider this more a curse than a blessing. He most certainly would not be laying bare his soul to anyone, let alone a stranger. To lower himself in another's eyes deliberately was abhorrent to say the very least.

'_Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur D'Arcy – l'telephon,_' his manservant said with a faint nod from the doorway.

'We have an extensive library and recreation room at the other end of the house. Feel free to make use of them – do not insult me by hiding yourself away upstairs….' D'Arcy said rising.

He rushed out of the room with the servant in tow, leaving his houseguest to wonder what had he gotten himself into? This new start was to be one of complete anonymity.

It was turning out to be anything but.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape tried to remember which end of the house the library was in and instead found himself nearing a darkened corridor. He could hear a faint muffled noise that could only be someone talking. He moved with such great stealth it put the Ministry Aurors to shame. He knew that he shouldn't be doing this, but given the circumstances he felt completely justified.

A chink of light shone from a slightly opened door. He leaned a bit to get a good look – it was indeed D'Arcy and he seemed terribly upset.

'_Nothing I do or say is good enough for her anymore…' D'Arcy said tightly to whoever it was on the phone. 'I should have questioned it when her attitude towards me changed so radically after seeing what she'd turned down before…'_

_D'Arcy ran a hand agitatedly through his dark curls and Snape was inspired to move closer for a better look. His host raised his head and there were tears visibly welling up in his bright brown eyes as he listened to whoever it was that served as his confidant._

'_I've done everything she wants! I have nothing else left to give and the best she can ever do is insult and humiliate me! England – even that was no good in her eyes! Even her family hates me!''_

There was a pause.

'_I would like that – but, no. She'll only kick up a fuss. Besides the weather is far too dangerous and especially coming such a long distance…' _D'Arcy sighed._ 'I should have never pursued her after she turned me down the first time…' _

He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose as he listened.

'_No, you're wrong about that! She has a lover… As a matter of fact, she has more than one!'_

_Tears began to steam down the younger man's face as he laid bare the shambles of a charade that was his marriage._

'_I… I don't know that there is anything else that can be done…' he said resignedly. 'She doesn't want me – just what I can do for her and her family… No! No! You cannot make her into the good soul that she isn't! I acted against my better judgment when every cell in my body told me she just wanted the fortune and connections that were impossible otherwise! If only…' _

_D'Arcy held the phone close as he unlocked a drawer to the desk at which he was seated. He took out a large square of paper, a photograph, and stared at it while he listened._

'_I would…I want to so much,' he confessed, 'but we have a guest…' _

_Pause…_

'_Yes – I have,' he smiled. '…Yet another stray; only he's not as pretty as you are and I don't think I'm his type.'_

_He laughed and then brushed the tears from his eyes._

'_Ahhh but it's the same thing that led me to you, remember?' he said softly. 'I don't know what I would do without you now. My mind won't let me think to how bad things were before you were here…'_

D'Arcy's voice had taken an intimate tone as its register deepened. The look on his face…

The man was in love – he had to be. And if he was not, he most surely was ready to fall and fall hard. Snape jerked his head back – this was far more than he needed to know. He made his way quickly and quietly down the hall and moved down another corridor that led to the opposite end of the house.

Once in the library he mulled over the events of that day since he'd arrived in Jersey. D'Arcy seemed like a good man – too good to be true, to be honest. Snape knew such good men existed; they just weren't a part of the peculiar circles in which he'd traveled. He himself was not a good man as his host seemed to be. There certainly wasn't anyone in his old life who thought as much.

And he could never be what the younger man was – for anyone.

Snape would rot in hell before he would render himself pitiable in anyone's eyes. D'Arcy biggest problem was that he appeared a fool who wore his heart on his sleeves. It was no wonder he landed himself with that harridan for a wife. He couldn't have learned his lesson to be bearing his soul to yet another woman. That was no male friend of his on the phone – not with the way the conversation turned when he left it.

The former professor took down a book absent-mindedly.

"_Pride and Prejudice"_

'Merlin help me,' he groaned as he put it back.

He was not in the mood for convoluted Regency-era romances. It was the sort of thing that could only be written by a woman. He wanted be free of these people and their dramas. Life presented him with enough problems without getting entangled in the shenanigans of others. And in his situation, unnecessary entanglements and obligations and were the last thing he needed.

He did not need to be within anyone's sights, period.

**xxxOOOxxx**

The storm was easing up; the snowfall was still thick but at least he could see the landscape that surrounded him. It was a winter wonderland indeed. Jersey typically enjoyed mild winters, but not this year.

'_I certainly picked my moment,'_ Snape thought bitterly as he crunched through the snow.

He finally saw a signpost.

'Fifteen miles to Rozel!' he hissed as he looked around the rolling landscape of the North Coast and the waters of the Channel and Atlantic beyond.

He was freezing his bollocks off out here – as beautiful as it was. This was enough for one day. Any thoughts of leaving now were pushed to the back of his mind. He had spent the better part of his life outwitting the Dark Lord and now the Ministry of Magic. For the sake of survival (and the undeniable appeal of being very comfortable) he could endure the D'Arcys for as long as it took to get himself situated.

The reality was he had very little choice. He just did not like owing anyone anything. He was in the Headmaster's debt for far too much than he could never repay in one lifetime. And then there was Potter, until the Boy Who Thought He Knew So Damned Much cocked up beyond belief. If Dumbledore died…

No, not _if _– _when_…

Snape turned around and headed back toward the D'Arcy estate. The situation between man and wife was none of his business and he would not get involved under any circumstances. The only matters that concerned him were his own.

He could not simply turn up anywhere and just get a job; he had no references, no identity papers and no connections – save the man who was throwing him a lifeline. He had no fortune or titles to his name, no distinguished pedigree that would open doors. And most importantly, he could not use his magic under any circumstances. For the first time in his life, he was going to have to yield to the half of his bloodlines that was Muggle.

He had to place some level of faith in D'Arcy and accept the help that was being offered though he'd done nothing to earn it.

Still – being the mercurial and innately suspicious man that he was, Severus Snape was waiting for the moment when the situation proved itself to be anything other than what D'Arcy was making it out to be; waiting for the moment when D'Arcy proved to be other than what he wanted Snape to believe he genuinely was.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx **

Thank you very much to all who are reading and continuing on even if you are not reviewing!

**Silverthreads:** Great to see you here and rest assured the chapters will get longer. I'm glad that I manage to capture interest even with the earlier ones being short.

**Carol J:** Welcome to my mad world and I am glad that the story has interested you enough that you are soldiering with it and please do not be shy in giving me your thoughts about characters and plot developments. My readers have often taken me down roads I hadn't considered in their reviews and I find it a tremendous help. This story is quite a departure for me in many ways and I'm not used to what I do being accepted very well…

**Sasha: **My faithful LOL! Boy what a surprise when I saw your review! I am glad you like this and really look forward to hearing your thoughts! This is SO different for me and I am surprised at the response its getting. And when do we get to see more of your wonderful epic hmm? I am still no closer to you telling me what this sizzling news is that you hinted at WEEKS ago!


	5. Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch…

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. This story is rated T.**

**Summary: Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 005: Meanwhile Back at the Ranch…**

Snape had just made it back before the snowfall grew heavier again and the wind picked up. He had found a useful tome on Herbalism and settled down in the library, ignoring the occasional sounds of the staff going about their business in taking care of the house. He did not like the idea of anyone poking around his things and had already terrified one of the housekeeping staff with a thorough bollocking when he caught her removing the soaking wet clothes from his room that he'd hung up on the backs of the chairs, over the radiators and the shower door. With D'Arcy's intervention a more suitable arrangement was made and Snape made it a point to ignore the rest of the household for as long as he could until dinner.

It wasn't until one D'Arcy's manservant came in with the deepest of apologies for disturbing him and turned on several lamps that Snape realised how dark it had gotten outside. He was informed that dinner would be served in at seven o'clock in the small dining room.

The former professor nodded faintly and then returned his attention to his book, though the words began to blur on the page. This time yesterday he had been surrounded by Dementors with little likelihood of escaping the Kiss. His good fortune was enough to give him a headache.

But he began to wonder now, about those he'd left behind.

**xxxOOOxxx**

'_The Ministry is confident that the accused will be apprehended in a matter of days…'_ Harry said aloud as he read that night's _Evening Prophet_ 'For God's sake they've been saying that for months!"

He threw the paper across the room so hard it barely missed his godfather's head.

'Oh do us all a favour, Harry and just give a rest!' Hermione snapped. 'Can't we talk about something else for a change – like the fact that this house is a wreck and it needs sorting out! Just because Dumbledore isn't around doesn't mean that things should fall apart! Snape isn't the only thing we have to worry about you know! I can't take any more time off from work for compassionate leave and they are watching me like a hawk – you really need to get it together!'

The latest confrontations between Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters and the Order and its allies had left few people untouched. Every day yielded new atrocities, some the likes of which were unprecedented. Everyone was on edge, waiting for the news that Snape had been apprehended. There was no love lost for most of them. No one seemed to care except Hermione, Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that the former Hogwarts professor wasn't even to be given a trial. One would think Severus Snape was the twin of Lord Voldemort the way some carried on about him.

Harry looked around the kitchen, which truth be told, had seen better days; especially with the seeming never-ending traffic through its compact space. They were in an old house on Grimmauld Place in a part of North London that had definitely fallen off the radar of the fashionable set.

It was his home along with his godfather, Sirius Black. But Grimmauld Place was also used as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Tonight was the first time in a long while that many of the surviving members of the Order could come together and, as always, Harry did nothing but vent his anger and frustrations about the one man he hated more than any other.

'This is _Snape_ we're talking about,' his godfather, Sirius Black, interjected. 'With his expertise with the Dark Arts he could be right under our noses and…!'

'His so-called _"expertise with the Dark Arts"_ is probably grossly over-exaggerated and _especially by people_ _who don't really know him_,' Hermione snapped.

'Like_ you_, Hermione?' Fred demanded with a dismissive look.

'_Over-exaggerated?'_ Ron asked incredulously. 'Hermione – what about Harry's Advanced Potions Book from 6th Year? Or is that something else you want to conveniently ignore about that greasy git!'

'Enough!' Professor McGonagall shouted as she slammed platters of food on the table. 'Can we not talk about that vile, wretched man for one night!'

There was a loud CRASH from outside which caused everyone to jump.

'That bloody Tonks,' Fred said grimly. 'Why don't we just put up a sign on the door for You-Know-Who saying _"Harry Potter and the Other Enemies of the Dark Lord"_!

Just then the back door to the kitchen flew open with a loud BANG. Tonks blew in, knocking over a small shelf near the door and causing a potted plant to fall into the cauldron of stew on the table in the process. Remus Lupin managed to catch her before she hit the floor.

'TONKS!' Molly Weasley shrieked as she picked out the plant. 'It took me over an hour to…!'

'Forget that – I've got some news; something a lot more important than that!' Tonks panted breathlessly.

'What? Have they got him? They finally bring that murdering bastard in?' Harry snapped as he flew out of his chair.

'Harry that will be enough,' Remus said sternly, silencing The Boy Who Lived with a pointed look. 'What happened Tonks? Have they found him?'

'No – the Ministry's had to call off the search at the moment because of the weather…'

There were collective moans around the table.

'Then what other news is there worth hearing about?' Harry snapped.

'Like what the heck was Bellatrix Lestrange doing meeting with Minister Scrimgeour!'

Molly dropped the replacement cauldron of stew she had been bringing to the table as every head turned towards Tonks.

'_Bellatrix Lestrange at the Ministry of Magic – meeting with the Minister of Magic_? You are working too hard, mate!' Ron sputtered. 'Next it'll be Crumple-Horned Snorkacks joining You-Know-Who…'

'It wasn't at the Ministry you idiot! _I saw it with my own eyes at Malfoy Manor_!'

Lupin looked at Tonks who was visibly shaking. Her hair had reverted to its usual mousy brown and her skin was pale and clammy. She seemed ready to faint.

'Fred, Ron; get everyone into the dining room – now please.'

The two young men took off for other parts of the large house where Order members could be found resting or searching out the hundreds of dark objects that were secured about the place. Tonks started to speak and Mrs. Weasley silenced her. She and Lupin helped the young Auror upstairs to the large dining room where Order meetings were generally held.

'You don't really believe that load of rubbish – do you?' Ron asked Harry.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and fetched his newspaper.

'We haven't heard from Kingsley in _weeks_!' Hermione hissed in a low whisper. 'He just vanishes into thin air – **him** – _one of the most decorated Aurors this side of Mad-Eye Moody_? It doesn't make sense!'

'I heard Dad say that there hasn't been so much as a note to anyone,' Ginny offered quietly. 'Kingsley was working as Scrimgeour's Private Secretary on Scrimgeour's orders and he just ups and leaves? Dad's not saying much but I know he and mum are worried…'

'And there hasn't been a single word in the papers, not one,' Harry said slowly. 'I read all three editions every day plus the weekend papers. The only thing mentioned has been…'

Hermione moved from across the table and sat down next to him.

'Someone has mentioned him? Who? Where?'

'Mr. Lovegood in _The Quibbler_…'

'Oh for God's sake,' Hermione said rolling her eyes, 'Everyone knows that old rag is just a load of nonsense…'

'It might look like crap, Hermione, but if you read between the lines there are some things worth thinking about, just like before…'

Ginny looked at Harry incredulously. Hermione was ready to pounce, but was restrained by a withering look from Ginny.

'We can talk about this later. I'll…um…see if your mum needs any help,' Hermione said as she got up and walked to over to the stairs which led to the upper floors. 'Ronald?'

'What?' Ron said blankly as he stared at his sister.

'Why don't you come and help me?'

'Help you do _what_?'

'_Honestly!'_ Hermione huffed as she walked over and hauled him out of his seat. She pushed him up the stairs ahead of her amidst a great deal of complaining. The sounds of their bickering faded away and Ginny let out a sigh of relief.

'So – do you fancy telling me what you think?' Ginny said softly as she moved next to him and put her arms around him.

'Mmm, I think I quite fancy something doing else at the minute,' Harry replied before kissing her.

'A bit reckless, Mr. Potter…'

'So you can see that I haven't quite lost my grip on reality just yet…'

'Mmm hmm…thank Merlin for that.'

'It's been too bloody long. Promise me that tonight…' Harry murmured as he savoured the warmth of the one person in the world he couldn't live without, now more than ever.

'I will – our usual place at the top of the house…' Ginny said leaning into him once more.

After a few minutes both had to force themselves to stop. Harry looked at his fiancée appraisingly.

'I'm sorry this has to be a secret…' he whispered hoarsely.

'So am I,' Ginny whispered as she touched her forehead to his before kissing him. 'But I'd rather have you in secret, than not have you at all. I can't go through that again…'

'Neither can I.'

Harry got up from the table and sighed as he straightened his clothes, trying not to think of the risk they were taking by not only becoming romantically involved again, but becoming engaged. Voldemort was still determined as ever to get to him and would use any means at his disposal – including the people closest to Harry, especially those he loved. But he couldn't bear to let Ginny go now that she was back in his life again. They'd split up for just over three years and he had never known it was possible to grieve the loss of love and that it could hurt so much. Ginny might as well have been dead then the pain was so bad. If nothing else that convinced him just how much he loved her and what she really was for him.

He checked the food Mrs. Weasley was preparing, fully aware that she'd have their heads on a stick if they let it burn. Ginny got up and started laying out the serving dishes.

'I went to see Mr. Lovegood last weekend while I was at yours,' he said. 'That long walk I took on Saturday…'

'Mr. Lovegood? You talked to him about this? But Harry – this is Order business!'

'Exactly,' Harry said, looking at her pointedly.

Ginny thought for a moment and then opened her mouth in surprise. This was definitely one of the best kept secrets in the Order.

'He seems to think that Scrimgeour forced the issue with the transfer so that he could keep an eye on Kingsley – he hasn't trusted him at all since that whole thing with finding Sirius fell apart. And he apparently wasn't too happy about Kingsley's work with the last Prime Minister…' Harry continued.

'The Minister's still harping on that? Harry, it's been what seven or eight years now since Sirius escaped and there wasn't much to Kingsley's job at Westminster anyway – it was a demotion!'

'Exactly,' Harry said, drumming his fingers on the nearest counter top. 'But what if…'

Ginny moved next to him and looked up into his emerald eyes. She couldn't remember when she last saw him look so serious – and worried.

'_What if Scrimgeour found out something about Kingsley _– like he's a member of the Order?' Ginny offered.

Harry let out a breath and then shook his head 'no.'

'_What if Kingsley found out something he shouldn't have…'_

'And the Death Eaters got him? Seems strange….'

'No…What if he found out something that he shouldn't have – and _Scrimgeour_ got him!' Harry said tensely.

But before Ginny could answer such a wild proposition, they were interrupted.

'_HARRY! GINNY!_ Start sending up the dinner please!' Mrs. Weasley called down to them.

Several flicks of their wands and the serving platters and bowls were filled and navigating the route to the dining room.

'Harry,' Ginny said grabbing him as he moved towards the stairs. 'Do you realise what you are saying?'

'That Scrimgeour is a ruthless old bastard who won't let anything or anyone get in his way? Yeah – I'm dead sure that's what I'm saying…'

'But what could Kingsley have possibly found out?'

'If Tonks wasn't just seeing things and Scrimgeour was really at the Manor – Merlin only knows. Come on – I'm hungry and the only way we'll know is to go have some dinner…'

**xxxOOOxxx**

Dinner was a tense affair as everyone crowded around the table.

'Right – so what's this _rubbish_ about Scrimgeour and Bellatrix Lestrange?' Ron blurted out as he reached for more food than he could possibly manage in one sitting. 'You are a bit strung-out you know…'

'**_IT'S NOT RUBBISH! I KNOW WHAT I SAW!'_** Tonks shrieked, very near tears at the suggestion that she'd had another breakdown.

She was tired of people making out that she was feeble-minded just because of the situation with Lupin some years ago. She'd gotten over it. Well… at least she tried to…

'Ignore him, Tonks – so what exactly did happen?' Hermione asked, hoping she sounded diplomatic enough.

Tact wasn't always a virtue and she tried to be careful with Tonks since the poor woman was so sensitive to the point of being fragile these days. Lord only knew what inspired her to be an Auror… everyone knew when Tonks was coming well before she got to them, tonight was just the tip of the iceberg. Still, she'd handled herself well enough in some of the battles for the Order.

'The one day, the one day that I finally decide to go and see if I could reason with Mother…find out what's going on with her and my aunt.'

'Your mother? What was she doing at the Malfoy estate? I thought she'd fallen out with Narcissa?' Sirius sputtered, nearly chocking on a bit of new potato.

'I don't know! But yes, she did and now they seem to be talking again. When I got there the place was quiet – too quiet. It really set my nerves on edge because you know what Narcissa and Lucius were always like with their servants and house elves all over the place. The garden had to be tended to every single day, rain or shine… You couldn't make a move without tripping over one of the help.'

'But it's a bloody blizzard out there!' Ron said before shoveling another load of food in his mouth. 'Iss thoesnth maa nanee sensh…'

There were times when Hermione was ready to hex him, and this was definitely one of them. Ron got a look at her scowling face and wisely paid attention to his dinner with his mouth closed.

'My dear cousins are very fastidious when it comes to their personal surroundings,' Sirius said sarcastically. 'Lord Voldemort himself couldn't stop them; I've heard stories about Lucius being summoned and not breaking a sweat as he gave orders to his staff…'

'The rich can easily afford to be so pernickity and stuck up even when it's stupid to be that way – that's why they are…' Mrs. Weasley said with a pinched expression.

'Is that meant to apply to all of us or just the Malfoys, Molly?' Sirius enquired darkly.

'I'm not going to argue with you Sirius,' said Mrs. Weasley as she poured herself a glass of wine. 'Tonks you were saying?'

'There wasn't anyone about; no one walking the grounds – nothing,' Tonks answered with a scowl. 'So I walked around and decided to go have a look at the cottage – the guesthouse. I got there and I saw it with my own eyes – Bella was with Scrimgeour and from what I could tell he had been summoned and wasn't too happy about it!'

There was much consternation at this and everyone offered his or her opinion.

'Scrimgeour _summoned_?' Hermione said loudly over the others. 'But that would imply that it wasn't some one-off. Anyway – Bellatrix is still on the run; wouldn't he have gone with a detail and arrested her? She's supposed to be shipped back to Azkaban and he could have been killed!'

'Well the Minister seems to have his own ideas about that Hermione!' Tonks snapped. 'But I didn't have any back-up either and I didn't think either one of them would too pleased to see me, especially if he was on his way to see Lord Voldemort!'

'_Incredible,'_ Mr. Weasley murmured as the room fell silent.

Ginny looked at Harry, her eyes pleading with him to say something about what they'd discussed. This was too important even though the others might not agree.

'Well – it may get even more bizarre in a minute,' Harry said.

He quickly told them what his own thoughts were based on the blind news item he'd read in _The Quibbler_ gossip pages and how he'd gone to Mr. Lovegood.

'Harry, how many times do I have to tell you that paper is a load of rubbish with all that madness about things that aren't real!' Hermione said exasperatedly. 'And since when is Mr. Lovegood an expert?'

'Mr. Lovegood is that rarest of beings, Hermione; a person with a truly open mind – which is why it's better to have him on our side than against us,' Lupin said, 'The Prophet is controlled by the Ministry. They wouldn't dare publish anything other than information sanctioned from the Minister's office. The right people will read _The Quibbler_ and they'll get it; that's why we are much better placed this time around, unlike the last war. Harry makes a valid point: sometimes what we need to see is right there in front of our eyes, willing us to recognise it for what it is.'

'Is that a fact?' Hermione said giving him a look that couldn't be missed and then glancing at Tonks.

She looked around the table craftily.

'The same could be said about other people, I guess; that perhaps we see what we want to see instead of the truth of who they really are…'

'Anyone in particular in mind, Hermione?' Fred snapped.

There was only a slight shrug of her shoulders as Hermione turned her attention to dinner. There was no point to having yet another argument about Snape.

'Why do you defend him! After everything he's done! The way he's treated everyone!' Fred continued. '_My brother is dead because of that murdering coward!_ And I don't care what you say – _he was a Death Eater and Dumbledore should have bloody well known better! _What did it get him and George except _killed_!'

'Dumbledore isn't dead,' Hermione sniffed. '…and he must have had a very good reason to trust Professor Snape. The man has actually done some good – well, a lot of good while we were at school certainly. Harry probably wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for him! Why are you so determined to see him as only a monster?'

'And why are you determined to see him as some ruddy saviour!' Fred roared before leaving the table and storming out the front door.

'Harry told us what he saw that night! Are you trying to say that one of your best friends is a _liar_!' Sirius hissed before leaving.

There was a loud BANG at the top of the stairs as the door to his bedroom shut.

Hermione started to say something but a look from Lupin silenced her.

'I think that's enough discussion for tonight,' Mrs. Weasley said rising, looking upset.

'We'll clean up, Molly. Why don't you and Arthur see to Fred?' Lupin offered.

'Thank you, Remus. I think we need to,' Mr. Weasley said as he went to get their coats. 'Ron – come on; in his state you may be the only one he talks to…'

Ron nodded and then followed his parents out. There was a quiet rustling as they prepared to leave.

Tonks looked over at Harry and Ginny and then at Lupin and Hermione as the sound of the front door shutting reached them.

'Well – I um… I better get home myself…'

Ginny looked at the young Auror and then at Hermione.

'Walk you to the door?' she asked politely.

All things considered, she shouldn't encourage Tonks to stay the night. It would only make things worse for everyone concerned.

'_I can see myself out…'_

A few steps and Tonks had gone, leaving by the front door this time.

Hermione didn't say a word as she went into the kitchen followed closely by Lupin. She started stacking pots and pans in the sink and then squeezed out washing up liquid. Her ability to switch on and off at will was maddening. It frustrated him to no end.

'What's gotten into you?' he asked.

'What are you talking about, Remus,' she said turning on the taps after summoning the reset of the dishes from the dining room.

Lupin moved behind her and plunged his hands into the hot sudsy water on top of hers.

'Sometimes I wonder if you haven't actually fallen for him; or rather, this ideal version of him you keep offering up to us all…' he murmured into her ear before kissing her neck.

'I would have thought last weekend disproved that…' she said removing her hands and turning around.

She turned her face up to his for a lingering kiss.

'Last night certainly did,' he murmured as he held her and ran a soapy hand over the slight swell of her belly. '_I must be insane…'_

'Then what does that make me?' Hermione asked as she held his hands on her belly and covered them with her own.

'Why are you so determined to see nothing but good in him when it's so bloody clear what kind of man he really is and what he's capable of?'

'_Because no one else will_… He's been convicted and damned without being heard. It's not right, no matter what anyone thinks he's done.'

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape listened intensely. Thank Merlin it was finally quiet. The conflict between the D'Arcy's had reached breaking point during dinner and God help him, he could not endure another minute in this house. He might be signing his death warrant – but he would not remain.

He'd had enough of that sort of thing growing up – and all the creature comforts in the world would not be inducement enough to endure it again.

A note was left for D'Arcy where he thought his host or at least the manservant was sure to find it and then left.

**xxxOOOxxx**

'The Heads of the Auror Office and Magical Law Enforcement have recalled everyone.'

'So the Ministry has called off the search?' A little inclement weather and they call off the search…'

'The opposition are starting to complain that I am spending too much time, money and resources on tracking him down,' Scrimgeour said tensely. 'I could not push for those assigned to track him to carry on when the rest of the government is shut down.'

'All this time and there is no sign of him? The Ministry seems to have lost its touch, Scrimgeour, since the changes at the top.'

Scrimgeour's eyes glittered strangely as he looked at the figure that was Lord Voldemort. It was one thing to speak of the bogeyman in abstract terms; it was another to be faced with him. The Dark Lord was no mere bogeyman – he was everyone's worst nightmare come to life.

'All this time and even your own servants have not met with success.'

'Scrimgeour you forget your place!' Bellatrix Lestrange snapped as she moved forward. 'I…'

'You – will remain **silent**!' the Dark Lord hissed dangerously.

He stood and walked over to the Minister of Magic.

'Had I known it would be this easy…' he whispered vaguely as he circled the politician. '… and yet you have not turned entirely, have you?'

'The only interests that matter to me are my own. This situation with Snape is highly embarrassing to the Ministry. Why the Prophet…'

'…Prints only what you yourself approve. And, to my understanding, quite often it is your public relations office which crafts some of the more, ahhh, _interesting _material to be found in its pages.'

Scrimgeour did not move, nor did he speak. A wise man knew when to be silent. Voldemort looked at the politician warily.

'This business with Snape – it sets a precedent we cannot have repeated.'

Scrimgeour said nothing and kept his eyes fixed on a spot of the wall past the Dark Lord's shoulder. Voldemort stopped circling in moved into the politicians face, causing the man to shrink back.

'Ahh – not so brave are we now…' Voldemort said idly as he took a seat near his fireplace.

'_Not so foolish_ is more accurate, Lord Voldemort.'

The Dark Lord looked up at the man who had remained standing. He cocked his head to one side as if studying him.

'You have quite a bit of work to do _– to restore the public's faith in you…_'

''_Indeed…'_

'I have a little proposal for you – though whether or not you choose to act upon the idea is _entirely_ _up to you_ of course.' the Dark Lord said idly with a menacing smile.

Scrimgeour felt as if he had been kicked.

'And what is it that you propose, _Sir_?'

Voldemort smiled.

'Lucius Malfoy…' he began.

'…Is in Azkaban where he belongs…' Scrimgeour interrupted.

'He is in Azkaban, _yes indeed he is_; However, he is not particularly useful behind bars, now is he?'

'For you I rather suppose he is not.'

Voldemort folded his spindly fingers in front of his slit of a mouth.

'What if Mr. Malfoy happens to – _escape_…'

'Now see here! It's bad enough that…'

'_CRUCIO!' _Voldemort said leaping to his feet.

Scrimgeour twisted and turned in agony, unable to scream as the curse tortured him from the inside out.

'_Lucius Malfoy will conveniently escape just as Sirius Black did. Except this time your Aurors will not be so imbecilic such as to be outwitted. They will recapture him by any means necessary – and he will not survive it! Your officers will have been justified as their lives were at stake! The Prophet gets front page news, you get a bit of glory and I have one less** idiot** who would turn traitor and sell his soul to the Muggle Devil himself to keep himself out of Azkaban – or whatever it is that the Fates have set in store for him.. **Have I made myself clear?**'_

The Dark Lord released the curse and Scrimgeour lay curled up in a fetal position on the floor, his fine tailored suit getting covered in filth – and his own vomit and bodily fluids. His mouth moved convulsively, yet no sound came out. Had he been heard, he would have been screaming.

'I didn't hear that,' Voldemort hissed as he stood over the politician.

'Yes…' Scrimgeour croaked at last.

'Yes – _what_?'

'Yes_ – **My Lord**!'_

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape crunched along in the snow, trying to ignore the raw tightness in his chest. The weather was too bad to be in the outdoors. As this was farming country his best bet would be to find an outbuilding of some sort and bed down in it. He had enough food to last a few days with careful rationing. He should be alright enough before he had to go out of doors again.

He hoped he would at any rate…

He walked for several hours, barely seeing where he was going. His instincts told him he wasn't anywhere near Rozel. It felt more like the middle of nowhere. He crunched along shivering from the cold. His things were too heavy to carry and he began to face the fact that he was not really in the best of health and shouldn't be doing this.

Despite this, the former professor moved determinedly ahead.

He was near to collapsing when he saw it.

There was a large structure right ahead; a structure that looked like it could be a barn.

**xxxOOOxxx**

After carefully finding his way around the structure, Snape was relieved to find it was indeed a barn. He found a small door on one side and was able to let himself in. The structure was large and there was a loft that ran a decent length of the building. He was too tired to notice the livestock. He found a ladder to the loft and forced himself to climb up.

He arranged a few pallets of straw and some sacks into a makeshift bed in a recessed alcove where he wasn't likely to be discovered. Fortunately there were a number of items in storage in the loft, so there wasn't much work to do.

'_I must be mad…'_ he murmured before passing out from exhaustion.

He was too tired to care about consequences of his leaving the D'Arcy's.


	6. Consequences and Crossroads

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ This story is rated T.**

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 006: Consequences and Crossroads**

D'Arcy was awaked by his manservant, Mr. Hill, as soon as he happened across Snape's note in the kitchen.

'Gone? But that's madness – this weather will kill him!' D'Arcy said frantically as he read the letter aloud in bed.

Hill looked around the room discreetly. It was very sad indeed when a man and wife not only slept in separate bedrooms, but in different parts of the house. If it were two centuries ago that would have been the norm. But this was different – in every possible way Elizabeth D'Arcy made it plain that she rejected the man she had married.

'I took the liberty of looking outside, Sir. The storm has eliminated any sign of the direction he traveled.'

'Thank you, Hill. You're a good man – that's more than I could have expected from anyone. I just don't understand it… Why subject himself to that when he can be comfortable? He has no friends here, no connections and he definitely does not have the means to start a new life! I offered my help. Why in God's name would he reject it?'

The manservant looked at his master.

'May I speak plainly, Sir.'

'Hill, the day that you do not speak plainly I will take it as an impending sign of the Apocalypse,' D'Arcy laughed as he took his bathrobe from Hill and sat at the small table in the room which had been laid out with a hot pot of coffee and the morning papers.

'Sir, the man struck me as very proud and also…'

'Also…?'

D'Arcy poured Hill a cup of coffee and fixed it as he knew his manservant liked it. He gestured for him to sit and gave him his undivided attention.

'He also struck me as a man with a past, Sir. The kind of past that can keep a man on the edges of society. Whatever he left behind, I would say it is not friends or family or even a broken heart. _Life_, I think, has not been good to him.'

D'Arcy sighed and took a draught of his coffee.

'I agree. I don't think he has ever had a reason to trust anyone; therefore it stands to reason that he could not allow himself to trust me. But to _die of cold_ because of that distrust…'

The farmer shook his head and ran a hand through his curls.

'It wasn't just that Hill. It was the situation between Mrs. D'Arcy and myself. She, well… she loathed the man on sight. He did nothing to hurt or disrespect her even though he had every right to take offense – she treated him abominably, as she does me… as she does us all. He is not the most pleasant of men nor is he blessed with an agreeable disposition – but that does not warrant disrespecting him. He was here, in my home, at my insistence. She can take out her frustrations on me; but to treat him as she did…

The manservant said nothing and looked at his Master with the gravest of airs.

'Come now, Hill; don't be shy! Had I listened to your concerns about dear Elizabeth, my life might have well been different! Yourself and Emma – you set a fine example of what a relationship ought to be…Seeing the two of you together – you always did remind me of my parents…'

'I won't pretend to have all the answers, Sir. But the situation between yourself and Mrs. D'Arcy – it drives people away. Private matters ought not to be public and yet they are. There was a time when you were not so open and your heart not laid bare to us all. But there it is… Emma and I are fortunate, I suppose, in that we understand each other so well and that we complement each other in ways that are important. We talk and take the time to hear each other out. She is my support and I am hers. Our financial concerns we meet together. Oh, I have always said that she does not have to work unless she wants to, but my Emma is not afraid to work for the things she wants and so that we and the children can make nice homes for ourselves… She does not leave me to take care of all the material wants of our family. She helps me, Sir. '

'You're a fine man, Hill. And Emma is a gem. You are very lucky, you know. But it's not a matter of luck. _You made your choice and supported it_. Had I not bowed to certain pressures…' D'Arcy put down his coffee cup and frowned. 'I did what others thought I should do given my position, with no thought to my own happiness.'

Hill paused before speaking, wanting to be careful not to overstep the mark.

'You _do_ have choices, Sir. And opting not to choose _is_ a choice in itself. I could have married a very different kind of woman, had a life nearer to that of the gentry given my own background. I made my choice. And though there_ are_ times when I have wished that we had a better sort of life, I cannot complain about what we really do have. Emma, Sir; she is an angel. It is natural for a man to want to have a comfortable life for the woman he loves.'

D'Arcy smiled faintly as another cup of coffee was prepared for him.

'Are you happy here, Hill? Because if you are not I will do what I can to…'

'Oh, don't trouble yourself Mr. D'Arcy! We couldn't be happier anywhere else on the island. You have been the best possible Master and all your tenants think so too! We all have a good life and want for nothing. There aren't many people in service or working a tenancy anywhere that could say that genuinely!'

'I think that all people deserve comfort and happiness, regardless of their station in life. My father believed it and his father before him. We all need each other for various reasons. And truth be told, I firmly believe that an important part of the success that we on the estate enjoy is because good relationships between us all. God help me – to have the problems that Richelieu and some of the others have… No, a broken heart is preferable. It's not the end of the world…'

'It is only if you chose to live with it, Sir, and not pursue true happiness.'

D'Arcy tapped his cup gently with a finger as he looked out his windows.

'There is no possible way to find Ravenscroft in this; and you and the others should not be out either.'

Hill started to speak but D'Arcy silenced him.

'Don't worry about wages, Hill. They will be paid in full.'

'Begging your pardon, Sir; but Mrs. D'Arcy said…'

'She has never cared to be the Mistress of the estate and she does not pay your wages – I do! I managed well enough before I was married and I daresay I will again! You will be paid in full.'

Hill nodded slightly at his Master and waited.

'It's been too long…' D'Arcy murmured. 'I can't go on like this. Let her go back to England…'

He looked outside again and a let out a deep sigh.

'_Our paths will cross again if he survives this, of that at least I am sure. God be with him, wherever he is…'_

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape awoke to the sound of heavy winds battering his hiding place. Despite the fact that it seemed a relatively new and sound structure, the coldness still seeped through here and there. His clothes were soaking wet and he shivered with cold. His throat hurt and coughed hard for several minutes, unable to stop. He panicked for a moment after it ceased, wondering if he'd given himself away. But it was quiet save for the noises of the animals below.

He was tired, too tired. Not caring to eat and with no incentive to move, once again he simply passed out.

**xxxOOOxxx**

He forced himself out of the alcove. Confining himself to such a tight space was probably not the best thing he could do for himself. He wasn't feeling that well and didn't have the means to do anything to help himself; that vexed him more than anything. Everything seemed to have turned against him because of his damnable pride and personal demons.

He was going to die here. There was no doubt about it; this was going to kill him. His would be such an ignoble death…to die of cold – and on the run like some common criminal. He was no vagabond, but that is what they would make him out to be.

No one would ever know that he wasn't the evil monster that many claimed he was.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Christiane Barthélémy awoke to the sound of the storm which seemed to have intensified. She hit the snooze alarm on her clock radio and closed her eyes to the reality outside her front door. After 10 minutes the alarm went off again, and again she slammed her hand down on the snooze alarm. She did this several times thereafter and finally looked at the time.

'Merde,' she groaned. 'Merde, merde, MERDE!'

She had overslept by almost two hours. It didn't matter how bad it was outside, there was still plenty of work to do. But God Almighty, how good her bed felt! She forced herself to get up and get started. There wouldn't be time for breakfast now, she needed to stick to the timetable she'd set and that was ruined yet again because really, she had too much to do and not enough time for everything.

Christiane had a quick shower and dressed; and then hurled herself out into the storm.

**xxxOOOxxx**

"**MOOOOOOO!"**

'Alright Madam, I know I'm late!' Christiane snapped in Jèrriais as she stepped into the barn and turned one of the lights in the center.

It never ceased to amaze her how quiet it could be as she approached, but the minute she was inside every living creature cried for her attention. Of course these days she almost always managed to be late, and cows needing to be milked didn't care about her need for a bit of a lie-in.

She looked at all six of the cows, then her two horses and finally the chickens who were protesting mightily at being indoors. As always they'd wandered in from their coop, contained in a smaller structure accessible by means of a small connecting hallway. She was so tired the night before she probably didn't lock it properly. It wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last.

'You should be used to it by now,' she scolded them before cleaning out their home and putting down fresh straw, seed and water.

She moved back into the main part of the barn after securing the coop and began cleaning up after the cows. Three hours worth of work was done and yet she hadn't really made a dent in everything she should needed to stay on top of things.

Christiane wanted more time for herself and the art business she hoped to get up and running, but it was either the farm or working in retail. The last thing she wanted to be doing was working as a shop girl again – she had enough of that after leaving school. What she needed was help, but she couldn't afford to pay much and there wasn't anyone who could work the hours she needed but at the small wage she could manage from the profits after the expenses were taken care of. The expenses – something else that needed looking at. She always had been bad with bookkeeping and it was costing her no doubt.

**CREAK!**

She stood still and looked around.

**SCRAPE!**

'I must be tired – too damn tired,' she said aloud. 'Nobody in their right mind would be out in this weather. Just the wind…'

Still, something about the noises scared her and she found herself turning on the rest of the lights. The cows still had to be milked and the horses needed mucking out. She sighed, threw down her pitchfork and went back to the house.

The rest of the work could wait until after lunch.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape looked at the woman below through blurry eyes. Merlin's beard, what was wrong with him? Was that him that made those noises? He rolled onto his back and tried to take a deep breath. He was sweating like a pig and really didn't feel well. His clothes hadn't dried. There was a strange odor and he sniffed.

He'd wet himself and from the looks of things he'd vomited at some point.

He'd gone from comfort to _this_. But what else could he do with little money and no connections? He could not impose himself on anyone. He would not put himself in a position where he owed them anything. But he owed D'Arcy as sure as he owed Dumbledore…

_Dumbledore…_

Would the gentleman farmer be so obliging and accepting of one as low as him if he knew what he really was, if he knew that he was a murder? The former professor had lost count after his soul split in two and then quadrupled. There were those dead by his wand and then there were those who had lost their lives through his complicity with killers more cold-blooded and bloodthirsty than he had been. A Death Eater only became so through a kill. No matter what Dumbledore said to justify Snape's presence, when those that knew of his double life looked at him they saw a man already damned to that fictitious Muggle Hell.

They had the sense enough to know what he had done to earn his mark and mask.

It was why they believed his was the action that put the Headmaster in St. Mungo's Critical Care Unit. The fools; they didn't know the half of what Dumbledore had doing in the run up to that night on top of the Astronomy Tower at the school. Even Potter, with all he believed he knew from the Headmaster, was so unbelievably ignorant of the truth…the truth that had been right in front of his eyes and everyone else's all along.

Snape turned it over and over in his feverish head. It would be so easy to go out of doors and just go to sleep… But he was a Slytherin – and stereotypically wanted to save his own neck. He wanted his name cleared and he wanted to be free – truly free. He would never set foot in Hogwarts again, of that he had no doubt. But he wanted to not have to look over his shoulder or worry about the day when his past would come back to haunt him.

For the first time in his sad, miserable life – he wanted to be someone other than who he really was.

**xxxOOOxxx**

He needed to go to the bathroom and he couldn't do it up in the loft. It was bad enough that he'd wet himself, but at least it was in the straw. She still had cleaning to do; he could toss it in the horse stalls and she'd be none the wiser.

Snape sat up and tried to ignore the throbbing in his head. He gathered the incriminating straw soaked with his urine and pushed it over the edge of the loft. He licked his lips rapidly. They were chapped and split. He was thirsty and drank the last bit of water he had left. He was becoming dehydrated from losing so much body fluid and not replacing it.

With a groan he pushed himself up and made his way over to the stairs. He had to stop halfway down and get himself together. She was coming back… he was fairly sure that she was coming back.

He'd have to clean up now – she'd left this part of the place fairly tidy…

He hugged the wall as he made his way down. The light was hurting his eyes and they began to sting. A round of coughing seized his body like a vise as he swept the offending straw back towards the horse's stall. He stopped momentarily, caught up in a fit of wheezing and then started coughing again.

'_WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!'_

Snape dropped the broom with a jolt and turned around. He blinked through the curtains of hair obscuring his vision and then brushed it back with a shaky hand.

He opened his mouth to speak…

…and fainted.

**xxxOOOxxx**

He slept fitfully, tormented by dreams of his worst memories…

_His mother cowering from his father's acid tongue followed by crippling blows; him cowering from his father's acid tongue and heavy black belt with the sharp buckle; James Potter and Sirius Black tormenting him by turning him upside down and taking off his underwear in their 5th Year at Hogwarts; the night he was initiated into the Death Eaters; the first time he faced the wrath of the Dark Lord; the night he had to return to the Dark Lord's side after living almost 13 years without him; the moment he realised that Lucius Malfoy was not the friend he had wanted to Snape to believe he was; Harry Potter and Ron Weasley talking about how much everyone hated him; Sirius Black calling him 'Snivellus' during Order meetings; Remus Lupin sitting by and saying nothing as a teenager and as an adult when Snape was abused by those the werewolf considered friends; almost being killed by Lupin in his transformed state when they were at school with Potter Sr. and Black; and the night he finally got the courage to tell Lily Evans he loved her and she rejected him…_

The sour times that constituted his life flooded to the surface.

He was dead and this was his Hell – one that he deserved…

**xxxOOOxxx**

Christiane stood above her guest (for that is what he was in her mind), wiping down his body with an herbal remedy that would help draw out the toxins and bring his fever down. There was no way she could get a doctor out here in this weather – and all things considered it was probably best not to. Jerri was not immune to gossip, especially where new arrivals were concerned. Lord knows she'd been the subject of too much of it herself in the Parish over the years.

It had been no mean feat to get him from the barn to the house, but she'd managed well enough.

_Where there was the will, there was always a way_, someone had told her once.

It hadn't been too much to clean him up; besides, it wasn't like he had anything she hadn't seen before…

**xxxOOOxxx**

Christiane walked into the room carrying a large bathing bowl filled with soapy hot water to clean her guest again. It had been just over four days of him coming in and out of consciousness, but at least his fever had finally broken. She had spent all day every day looking after him when she was not tending to the responsibilities of the farm. He was cleaned twice a day and his hair was brushed (lord knows it needed it). She cleaned up after his messes when then didn't make it to the bathroom in time, cleaned up his vomiting all over himself in the bed – she'd done all a woman could do to look after a man as he'd needed.

She knew women that wouldn't condescend to wipe their own husband's derriere when such sickness struck them down. And yet she had a feeling that had he been conscious, she wouldn't have been allowed anywhere near him and certainly not so intimately.

She looked at him closely in the lamplight; he was beginning to stir slightly.

'Ahh – so Sleeping Beauty is finally awake…' she said in Jèrriais with a smile as he blinked his crusty eyes.

She reached over to the lamp and adjusted the brightness of the light so that it was dim.

'Is that better?' she asked as she took one of his hands in her and began to wash it with the cloth.

'_Keep your hands OFF ME!'_ Snape squeaked as he snatched it back.

'Ah, so I was right – you _won't_ allow anyone to get anywhere near you, eh?'

He said nothing and glared at her.

'Listen – _friend_ – you are in _my_ house, in _my_ bed and you don't have it in you to even get to the toilet and use it without _my_ help. At the minute I can kick your arse quite easily so don't push it, you won't win!'

'**What?** J_ust who do you think you are_!' Snape croaked in a voice like sandpaper before swearing at her in Jèrriais.

He only managed to cough so hard that he vomited. Fortunately his caretaker was quick and had shoved a small bucket under his chin.

Christiane took his hand in hers again. The man frowned sourly, but he didn't take it away.

'You could have died – and you would have definitely if you hadn't come down out of my loft or if I had decided to leave you up there to rot,' she said as she cleaned his left hand and arm.

She then leaned over and did his right, ignoring the bloodshot black eyes that bore into her.

'I asked you a question!' Snape squeaked before falling into another spastic round of coughing.

Again the bucket was shoved under his chin. Once he finished with it, she handed him a glass of water flavoured with mint to rinse out his mouth. He handed her the glass and gave her a dirty look.

'If anyone has the right to some answers, it's me – don't you think?' Christiane said lightly as she attacked his face with the washcloth. 'I think I have a right to know the name of the man warming up my bed for me…'

Snape sank back into the pillows, clearly exhausted from the effort of fighting her.

'How do you know I am not some deranged, axe-wielding murderer?' he spat.

'How do you know I'm not some mental patient slipping mint-flavoured poison in your drink?' Christiane chirruped.

Snape opened his mouth wordlessly and then snapped it shut.

'Right – now that we cleared that up…' she said sitting on the edge of the bed. 'All I am asking for is your name.'

'_Ravenscroft_, Sebastian Ravenscroft…'

'_Barthélémy_, Christiane Barthélémy…'

She picked up his hand, put it in hers and shook it.

'Now – think you're up for trying a bit of broth and toast?'

Snape nodded his agreement slowly and he closed his eyes.

'_Miss Barthélémy?' _he croaked.

'Yes?'

'Why?'

'Why what?'

'Why are you doing this?'

'I'm not your enemy, Mr. Ravenscroft; don't make me out to be.'

'No one does anything for nothing…'

'Would you have rather that I left you out there to die?'

Snape took a deep breath, but again didn't answer right away.

'I don't have much to give you…' he said finally.

'I ask nothing and you owe me as much,' Christiane said gently.

Snape hoped that in his weakened state his face did not betray what he was thinking.

'Mr. Ravenscroft: if your being here was a problem for me, take my word for it; I would have had you taken away the moment I caught you in my barn. You are very sick and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't give you the help you so obviously need!'

'_I don't need your pity!'_

Christiane ran a hand frustratedly through her hair. This was proving to be far more difficult than she'd imagined. Goddamn his insufferable pride! She walked back over to the bed and sat down after shoving him over a bit.

'Everybody needs somebody sometimes, right? I am happy to do what I can until you are strong enough to walk out of here on your own. And if that's what you decide to do I won't stop you… But I do hope that you will at least show me some consideration and say goodbye.'

'Of course I'll go,' Snape muttered. 'I have no reason to inconvenience you further than I already have…'

'I really don't see any point in arguing about this. The weather is horrendous and there is no way you can survive out there. I don't mind having you here and maybe I am stupid – but Jerri is not the kind of place that attracts criminals or even breeds them; it's not the rest of the world.'

'No – I rather suppose it isn't…'

'Look, why don't you get some rest. We can have the broth and toast for our dinner.' Christiane said as she left the room

Once she was gone, Snape pulled the covers tight around himself. But as he drifted off to sleep he began to wonder – just how _had_ she managed to get him up off the floor and to her house in such dismal conditions?

'_Where there is the will, there is always a way,'_ he murmured sleepily to himself. 'And she is definitely strong-willed…'

Uneasy about this latest change in his circumstances and the multitude of questions racing through his head about his latest saviour, he finally allowed himself to sleep. He would address his concerns when the time was right.

**xxxoooxxx **

**xxxoooxxx **

Thanks to all reading and reviewing. For those that like the story I'd love to hear from you about what it is that you like about it and what's inspired you to add it to your favs and alerts (and many, many thanks for that!). Some of the comments so far have given me much to think about - and I hope that you will find an understanding of where I am coming from by my answers to you all. I've updated my notes in the headings and the summary to make it clear that I am not working strictly with canon plots, timelines etc here. Some of you I have chatted with already – but I'd already had these responses ready to post before I wrote the chapter. I'm keeping them for whomever may come later so that they have the same understanding and I don't find myself having to repeat it all if the same issues come up… And I don't have anyone to bounce ideas off of so… on we go…

**Sasha:** Erm, I did review the last post, I believe LOL. But you alluded to something juicy – some big news – weeks ago and then vanished from MSN so I couldn't find out what it was! And I still don't know! But I am glad that you like what I am doing so far… well until I see what you think about the last chapter LOL

**SupportSeverusSnape:**_Re Snape:_ He got lucky, yes, but the man needed to have some semblance of good luck at some point besides outwitting Voldie for so long...LOL! But he doesn't have money or any of the things he needs to start over – and while that level of help doesn't happen every day – it does happen. When I found myself homeless it happened to me and in the UK rather than my home country of America. Author insertion? Yes, definitely. I draw on my own experience – and I think many authors do. It's my experiences and interests that tend to give me ideas for my writing.

_Re Voldemort wasting his time:_ Voldemort is spending the whole of seven books out to kill Harry even though DD makes it plain that the Dark Lord doesn't have to set store in the Prophecy. Aside from that – we know that Regulus Black was on the run for a year before Voldemort got him. It's a matter of course with the underworld even in real life that you don't just decide to walk away and that's it – you go to a normal life. The ones that manage to leave and live without starting again is not typical. Gangs, the Mafia – there are witness protection programs for a reason. The wizarding world doesn't have one… well not that we know of unless JKR or someone else writes it LOL!

_Re; Lupin and Hermione:_ You mean after all this time I finally have someone reading who _doesn't _want those two together? (I saw the whole Tonks canon thing several miles off…but I just can't write him with Tonks for some reason…). Can easily be undone with poor old Lupin ending up alone… and I am past pairing him with an OC (Thewlis has turned me off the character unfortunately, although I think he's done well enough with the role…). But Lupin is an interesting ball of contradictions himself and one that I like to delve into occasionally…

**Duj:** Well it would be great if everyone bought into the plots of the story, but I accept I am not so lucky and it does comes with the territory of opening ones work up to the world – and especially with characters and a universe that is someone else's creation to start with. Above all else this is an Alternate Universe fic so canon does not rigidly apply here (there are hundreds of definitions of what AU is or shouldn't be – but I'm working with one detailed on Wikipedia…). Some facts are useful and I use them when there is a reason to so that things hopefully are not OOC – but everything I do is AU and it's always stated as such. A reader will either buy into it or they won't – but if one happens to be a firm adherent to canon then it seems odd to read an AU fic and keep pointing out how it's not canon – canon as its strictly known and believed to be is not going to be there…

However, given your comments I will try to explain my approach with this story so far – it's making me think about it more and that is a good thing:

_Re: Hermione:_ She is skeptical about the Quibbler _for the moment_ – as she actually was to start with in canon (since we are going down that road have a look at Chapter 10 in book 5). She only decided later in book 5 that it would serve a purpose despite all the other crap it prints; Lupin made a fair point in that some of the allegations it prints have some basis in truth – but its all the other crap printed to support it that makes the truth hard to see (see the Lexicon entry about the Quibbler, Luna and Mr. Lovegood and the various supporting links). The Quibbler is still a rag even for the bit of truth concealed within its pages.

_Re Scrimgeour:_ We have plenty of real life examples of governments colluding with despots. The Scrimgeour plot isn't impossible. Take the case of the Ugandan government and Joseph Kony. They have colluded with that man for over 20 years – allowing child soldiers, rape, murder, kidnapping, burning of villages and all sorts of atrocities that you can read about on the net. Kony is a madman and now too many of the wrong people seem willing to overlook that and his brainwashed soldiers in the name of 'peace'. Northern Uganda was a no-man's land. So now they have 'brokered' a peace deal and Kony will get off scott-free unless the government plays with fire and hands him over to a war crimes tribunal to be tried for his genocide…. How many governments colluded with the Nazis and how many citizens etc. turned a blind eye even with concentration camps right on their doorsteps – HP is heavily influenced by WWII per JKR herself. The UN sat by and let the Rwandan genocide take place… The Middle East is filled with conflicts that the world sits by and watches, a few might condemn – and everyone knows that certain governments collude with so-called allies and enemies alike. The CIA certainly does. You can't serve two masters – and yet many politicians do. Governments ignore the human rights violations of countries particularly for Oil, Trade, Finance… etc. For all the good that government can do, things happen every day in this world of ours by our leaders even at the very top that are an anathema to all that is right and just – George W. Bush Jr., anyone?

Like many characters in HP, we don't have a full story on Scrimgeour to know all there is about him. We can make any number of assumptions and get it wrong. All Harry is doing _at the moment_ is speculating as he always does (if we go by canon – but that is a trait that he has and one that works well as a plot device) because he doesn't know half as much as he thinks he does…and Mr. Lovegood doesn't have the full facts either… He gets a glimmer of the truth but then puts a load of nonsense around it.

The fact that the Ministry might be willing to overlook certain things was alluded to from the very beginning of the story by Snape himself… and even in canon DD tells us that Voldemort has his spies in the Ministry just like the Order does (of course he would). Part of the plot centres on the fact that the Ministry is definitely colluding with Voldemort, and Snape unfortunately managed to find out which is why he is on the run from both of them.

But it's also obvious that the Minister is no Death Eater himself.

He's playing politics that are quite dirty – and its not a given that he wont fall on his sword.

The Minister is not a slave to Voldemort, but he is a slave to his own motives (which will be revealed in time…); which given the undeniable fact that we know he is ruthless is likely.


	7. Temperance

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ **

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 007: Temperance**

Time passed slowly as Snape struggled to get better. It seemed the more he pushed himself to get better the slower his recuperation went. He was able to get out of bed now and mercifully the house was on one level.

Christiane discovered how fiercely determined he was to not stay in confined to her bedroom for too much longer. She was hunched over a large accounting book at a small desk in one corner of her living room. Music was going full blast and she was trying to concentrate on reconciling the farm's accounts. Her guest had stood for a few moments watching her from the doorway and then slowly ambled over to where she was seated. He placed a cold hand on her neck, causing her to shriek as she jumped from her chair.

'Jesus Christ!' she roared as she clutched her chest. 'Are you out of your damn mind!'

'I didn't mean to frighten you,' Snape said woodenly, sounding as though he really_ had_ intended to send her to an early grave. 'I did call out to you, several times as it so happens. But you were too absorbed in your…ahh…_noise _to hear me. Had I any ill intentions you would be dead by now, Miss Barthélémy.'

'Full of cheer as always this fine afternoon, aren't you _sunshine_?' The young woman snapped as she gave him a withering look. 'So – to what do I owe this pleasure, hmm? Bored with your own company? Experimenting with new ways to torture us both?'

Snape scowled as he moved slowly over to her sofa where he collapsed in a heap.

'Bitch!' he thought to himself.

He wasn't used to coldness from her and somehow it got under his skin, causing him to lash out even more.

As always, the young woman ignored him. Christiane took pity on him as always and began to fuss over getting him settled. Of course, this irritated him even more and they began to bicker. She made it a point to annoy him even more by lingering; it was her house and therefore her prerogative. Despite her guest's protestations, she knew he quite liked being waited on hand-and-foot. But he was restless, incredibly restless. The stranger was visibly willing his weakened constitution to improve and she could only wonder what the motivation for this was. He wouldn't tell her though.

Ravenscroft had been with her for several weeks now and she was no closer to finding out anything about the man than she had been when they first set eyes on each other. They spoke minimally and only about the parish and parish life, the farm – innocuous bits and pieces. But not a word was spoken that was ever personal, not even anything personal about her. There were photos of her and her family and friends everywhere but not once did he broach any aspect of her life laid bare before him.

Her guest was clearly determined to not be on intimate terms with her. And yet they had connected enough for him to have not taken off at the first sign of recovery. He was all alone in the world with no place to go, no money, no prospects and no one to care for him. He needed her; it was as simple as that. Ravenscroft resented it – and made sure she knew it.

However, Christiane was certain that once he was fully healed, he probably wouldn't be in too much of a rush to head out into the unknown. He asked all the right questions about the farm, and the work it took to keep it up. She answered his questions truthfully – being a farmer was not without its problems, especially for someone like her who just fell into it by accident. It was more than she was able to deal with, and especially alone, to be honest.

Snape lay watching her more than the horrendous programming of British daytime television. He couldn't understand it – she was supposed to be concentrating on her accounts, and yet she had_ both_ her television _and_stereo system on! The music she was listening to was far preferable to watching some banal Muggle discussion programme that was less intellectual discourse and more hormonal pub brawl.

'So why is it that you persist in this venture if does not suit your aptitudes, Miss Barthélémy?' he asked as he turned the television off with a flick of the remote on the table before him.

'_Next question…'_

Snape quirked an eyebrow. For the first time since he'd met her, Christiane Barthélémy was deliberately refusing to answer. He knew of enough of her to be sure that she would never side-step a question. However, he had definitely taken it for granted that she_ would_ answer whatever questions he put to her.

'I asked a simple question.'

'_And I gave you a simple answer.'_

'Something to hide?'

'_Pot and kettle, Mr. Ravenscroft,'_ came a tight reply.

Snape looked at Christiane's profile in the bright light reflected into the room through its large windows. She was definitely upset about something, and that something had to do with her accounts. She glanced over at him and he could see that she was near to crying. The young woman slammed the large book closed and threw down her pen before getting and steaming out of the room.

The former professor sighed heavily. The last thing he needed was to have to put up with a moody woman. He forced himself to get up and go over to her desk. He listened for a few seconds before opening the book and skimming the pages. What he saw made him blanch.

Christiane Barthélémy was in trouble – deep trouble. She was out of her depth and near to financial ruin according to these figures. He looked closer and then frowned.

'No – that can't be right,' he said as he did some mental arithmetic.

He looked at the receipts carefully attached to the page and rolled his eyes. The woman not only need a farmhand – she needed a professional accountant. Or better yet, since she was definitely cash-poor, she just needed someone who was competent at keeping proper financial records. He had a suspicion that given the mistakes he'd seen so far, Miss Barthélémy was not as badly off as she obviously believed herself to be. But given her atrocious mismanagement she probably would end up bankrupt without someone to put things in order.

Snape moved out of the room and towards the kitchen where he suspected she was. As he drew closer he heard the distinctive sound that could only be crying.

He stopped near the doorway and ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. This was none of his business and certainly not his problem. He shouldn't care about her – and he didn't really. Well – perhaps just a bit. After all, it wouldn't do for his benefactress to go broke while she was nursing him back to health. Once he was fully recovered he could leave… although truth be told his chances were as good with her as they would be with another stranger.

At least she didn't pry and ask questions he definitely would never answer. He would do everything in his power to stay alive and make sure than the truth of who he was and what he had done remained buried deep inside him. But he'd gotten lucky – damned lucky. Not everyone would show him so much kindness.

The blasted woman was too good to be true, much like D'Arcy had been. He shook his head violently at the memory of the man. Being nice – the thought of it made his insides curl up. He didn't trust her any more than he'd trust the gentleman farmer – at least he didn't want to...

But she did need someone and he quite liked the idea of being needed. It gave him the advantage, and with that came control. There weren't too many times in his life where he had been able to assume the superior role in a relationship – he'd be a fool to walk away from the opportunities inherent in this one.

Snape stood in the doorway looking down at Christiane, seated at her kitchen table. Like the rest of the house, the room was expansive, modern and in desperately in need of a good cleaning. Miss Barthélémy was no better at cleaning than she was at farming or accounting from the looks of things.

Christiane's head was buried in her hands. The more she tried to stop crying, the worse her crying jags became.

'Miss Barthélémy…' he began.

'WHAT DO YOU WANT?' Christiane screeched as she jumped up from the table. 'Is this some game to you? You like provoking me, is that it? Well there's nothing you can say that I haven't heard before – so just back off!'

The former professor's nostril's flared violently as he took a menacing step towards her. He opened his mouth to speak and then turned abruptly on his heel, steaming out of the room as fast as he dared.

Christiane looked tearfully at his retreating back until he had disappeared. The sound of a hard slam reached her ears.

'Great…just great…' she whispered as hot tears began steaming down her cheeks.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Elizabeth D'Arcy sat in her husband's study reviewing the summary sent over by his Accountants. She was incredulous at the tenants who clearly were losing the estate money. Some of them were so in the red they should have been sent packing ages ago. She shook her head silently and continued to read. The D'Arcy fortunes were taking a sound beating – this could not go on.

On his own, her husband would never do what any other man would do. But with her influence…

_Her influence._

She hadn't slept with him for months.

Elizabeth let out a great sigh.

She hadn't given him the time of day until she holidayed here with her aunt and uncle and seen what she had turned down. They'd walked the grounds and taken a tour of the Manor House that D'Arcy refused to live in thinking it much to grandiose. He preferred a simpler life, the housekeeper had told them at the time.

She vividly recalled thinking at the time that she'd been a fool to not appreciate the value of the man's wealth and connections even if she didn't particularly like the man himself. He'd changed so much from the haughty, reserved man filled with his own self-importance and conceit. His vanity, arrogance and pride hadn't done him any favours amongst her family and circle of friends. And despite the seemingly outward appearance of radical change, Madame D'Arcy knew that her husband still had his faults and it was only a matter of time before his mask slipped yet again. His goodness was sorely tested many times – that she knew too well.

He had wanted her to become involved with the management and running of the estate as all the D'Arcy wives had before her. It was time to play the game again – and this time battle would be joined. There were a lot of advantages to being his wife. She and her family were well looked after for a start.

Wealth had its privileges. And being a D'Arcy in Jersey was very advantageous.

She would use her own formidable talents – the ones that had secured his affections to start with. D'Arcy wasn't altogether bad in bed; but he could do with learning a thing or a few. He'd certainly learned a lot on their honeymoon. And like many men, he was very insecure with his wife's prowess. Of course he would be given the lovers he knew she'd had. She could give them up easily – not one of them could give her much beyond what was between their legs. Truth be told, they couldn't match her husband in _that_ regard either.

Elizabeth scanned the report again and frowned at several of the names.

Yes, it was time she asserted herself as Mistress of the estate.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Several days later D'Arcy returned from his drive into St. Helier loaded down with packages. The monthly Farmer's Market always yielded some excellent finds. Their larder would be filled to overflowing. He deposited his bags and boxes in the kitchen with strict orders about the dinner menu.

'Oh – Madame D'Arcy has already seen to it, Sir!' his housekeeper Emma exclaimed. 'She set out the menu for the next two weeks as a matter of fact!'

'Really?'

D'Arcy looked at the large notebook that was pushed towards him. Elizabeth had created menus that were a rather interesting blend of English, French and Jèrriais cuisine. There were things in each that could satisfy even the most pernickety of tastes, particularly hers.

'Excellent choices – well then, I will leave the domestics to your Mistress then…' he concluded with a nod.

Emma was as plain-speaking as her husband Hill, but she offered no comment nor did her countenance reveal what she was thinking. Feeling uncomfortable with her silence, D'Arcy took his leave.

He thought crossly to himself as he went up for a hot shower that it about time Elizabeth took an interest in the household – although he didn't see the point in starting what she didn't intend on finishing.

D'Arcy crossed his bedroom, discarding his clothes as he headed for the en-suite bathroom.

He closed his eyes as he let the hot jets of water run over him. His arms were stretched out and he propped himself up leaning against the marble tiles. The gentleman farmer let out an involuntary gasp as he felt the warmth of a body against his back and soapy hand caressed a nipple.

Elizabeth purred as she rubbed herself against him.

D'Arcy opened his mouth to speak and couldn't find the words as her hand grasped his thickening arousal and began to stroke it.

'Do you like that?' she whispered as she pumped harder.

Her husband's breathing became shallow and ragged.

'I'm sorry I've been so difficult. You were right, Darling; I haven't tried to settle in at all and it's gone on for too long…' she purred in his ear.

'What… what brought this on?' he said, reluctantly removing her hand from his hardness.

'We were happy once – and I want us both to be happy again.'

'You...you have behaved abominably. You have been heartless, cruel and unconscionable in your dealings with everyone. No one has deserved it; least of all the staff and me. We've done everything we can to satisfy you and nothing is ever good enough! I am your husband and yet you treat me no better than some vagrant off the street and in front of the hired help and even our guests!'

'I was wrong to act that way,' Elizabeth said, hanging her head in shame and choking back a sob. 'I will do whatever I can to make amends – I promise. I don't deserve anyone's forgiveness, but I will do what it takes to earn it"'

She put her head in her hands and began to cry.

'For god's sake, Lizzie,' D'Arcy murmured. 'You know I hate it when you cry…'

He pulled her into his arms and swallowed the lump in his throat. After all this time, after all the rows and stand-offs – his prayers were finally being answered. A multitude of conflicting thoughts ran through his head. Elizabeth, having anticipated them, lifted up her agonized face and looked at him regretfully. She moved so that her body was pressed hard against his.

'I'll do whatever you want…' she whispered as she rubbed against him. 'I'll make it up to you…'

D'Arcy pushed her out of the shower and into the bedroom. His wife fell back on the bed and opened her legs wide.

'_I'll make it up to you…'_

The farmer was no gentle man as he mounted her and began thrusting hard.

'No more!' he rasped as he pounded her, causing her to cry out. 'No more lovers, no more disrespect, no more hatefulness!'

Elizabeth moaned as she began thrusting hard against him.

D'Arcy grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back.

'I'm not stupid, Madame D'Arcy! Don't mistake me for one of those idiots you keep on a tight leash!'

He began to use her body the way he knew she enjoyed having it used.

And for the first time in months – he found pleasure in being with her.

And Elizabeth, unaccustomed to seeing this side of her husband since they were engaged, found herself taking pleasure in him for the first time in a long time.

Battle was indeed joined, and D'Arcy was set on a course that would have profound reverberations for himself and all connected to him.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape and Christiane sat across from each other at her kitchen table.

'I'm sorry,' she said at last. 'I was wrong to be so…bitchy to you…'

The former professor said nothing and continued to eat his breakfast.

'I know it shouldn't have taken me this long – but I am sorry,' she continued.

There was no response, not even so much as the flickering of an eyelid.

'You are one tough customer,' she said quietly before getting up.

Snape continued eating.

She looked over at him from the doorway.

'I…I guess there is just no pleasing you – is there?'

_Silence._

There was just the shake of her head as she fought back tears,

The silence was oppressive and she left her guest in peace.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape waited a few minutes and then quietly made his way to the living room.

Christiane was sat at the desk with her accounting ledgers, crying her eyes out. He couldn't go on like this – it was folly to do so. And yet the woman's behaviour did prove to him just how much power he really held with her. It made no sense; it made no sense at all.

'Miss Barthélémy,' he said curtly.

'Yes?'

'I think it is time we had a little chat, don't you?'

'Fine – go ahead, get it off your chest. I can't say I don't deserve it…'

'Do you always give up your control so easily?'

'What?'

'One would think me the master of this house rather than you…'

The young woman snorted.

'Having the decency to admit that I was wrong and behaved abominably doesn't mean I give up anything, Mr. Ravenscroft – nothing besides bad manners.'

Snape looked at her incredulously.

'You are heading down a very slippery slope towards ruination, Miss Barthélémy.'

'I was ruined the moment I…'

'The moment you what, Miss Barthélémy?'

Christiane sighed and gestured for him to take a seat.

Snape remained standing, looking down at her like she was some dunderheaded twit of a student at Hogwarts, hauled into his office for punishment.

'Will you please sit down? My neck is starting to ache!'

'_Very well!'_ Snape muttered irritably.

'Look – the truth is that I am just not cut out to do this, alright. I am in way over my head…'

'As I enquired some time ago, Miss Barthélémy, why do you persist in trying to make a living in a manner that clearly does not suit you?'

'Because it's all I've got! I made so many mistakes that I can't undo and this was a lifeline when I thought I had nothing left!'

'You are not making yourself clear…'

The young woman picked up the accounting ledger and then tossed it at him.

'I didn't choose this life, Mr. Ravenscroft; it chose me…'

Snape looked her appraisingly.

'Now that I do understand…'

He tossed the book back at her.

'The circumstances of your life brought you to this place; and I take it that this opportunity was presented to you when you were probably quite down on your luck, as it were…'

'Exact!'

'You are not from Jersey, are you Miss Barthélémy?'

Christiane looked at him wearily and shook her head 'no'.

'I grew up in a village outside Bayeux,' she said quietly. 'I miss it there…I miss my family very much.'

Her guest frowned. But such an open answer deserved to be addressed and sensibly.

'Then why remain here if it's not what you want?'

'I didn't say I don't like living here.'

'Alright then – why do you persist in pushing yourself to fail?'

'Because I don't have any other choice! I don't want to be a shopkeeper or a sales clerk. I don't want to work in a stuffy office doing some tedious nine-to-five job that I will hate. I want to be my own person and do my own thing!'

'And this is it?' Snape snapped. 'Miss Barthélémy unless you begin to turn things around immediately you will find you have no choice but to take on yet another role that does not suit you in a year's time.'

Christiane gasped and then rolled her eyes.

'I guess my secret's out then. You've obviously been poking your nose into my business!'

'Surely you expected no less? It is quite intriguing how all the accounts of the house and the business seem to have found their way out into the open since your display of temper last week. I have done as you hoped I would do and looked carefully at all the records.'

The young woman looked cross and then slumped in her seat resignedly.

'God you remind me of Monsieur Auteil…'

'Auteil – a resident here?'

'No – my high school maths teacher…'

Snape choked back a snort as his eyebrows flew up into his curtains of hair.

'Come, Miss Barthélémy, and sit beside me.'

Christiane looked at him suspiciously for the first time since they met.

Her guest glared at her and gestured for her to sit after telling her to bring her ledgers to him. As she did he opened up the lid of the chest that served as her coffee table. Christiane looked like she wanted to murder him, and Snape continued on as if he was lecturing a room full of Gryffindors.

'I took the liberty of reviewing all the accounts and re-doing them properly. I am not a professional accountant nor do I claim to have any particular expertise. However, unlike yourself I do have an excellent aptitude for maths and approaching the work logically. It is not rocket science – just simple basic maths: addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, Mademoiselle.'

Snape continued on talking, detailed everything that she had done wrong for two hours. By the time he finished, Christiane felt phenomenally demoralised and incredibly stupid. The former professor handed her his ledgers with a flourish and curt nod.

'Are you finished?' she asked tightly, choking back tears and anger.

'Well, I have done all that I can with your finances. That should suffice for the moment. I would propose that you and I work on the accounts together going forward.'

'You and I? Going forward?'

'You are in need of assistance and I am in need of a living, Mademoiselle. You don't have to like me, and I daresay you don't at the moment, but you do need my help and with more than the chores of farming.'

'You don't strike me as the sort of man who could be happy with farming.'

'And you are clearly woman who is no happier with her lot in life than I am with mine. You hate making your living this way and yet you show no signs of trying to do anything else. You have a reason for continuing on with this charade, and as long as you carry on with this venture you will need someone; someone who can live on what little you have to offer.'

Christiane fought back her anger. She had never come across anyone so arrogant and condescending in her life! And him – no better than a vagrant! But damn it he was right and on more than one score. She was treading dangerous ground with the farm – and she needed help badly.

'I can only offer you room and board and a small remuneration, Mr. Ravenscroft.'

'You will find that I do not generally require a great deal to be settled, Miss Barthélémy. What you propose is acceptable. However, as your fortunes improve I would expect to see that reflected in my compensation.'

'Fair enough,' Christiane said with a nod. 'I have an extra bedroom that needs sorting out… or there is another outbuilding, just across the field a bit from the house. It's open plan: two spaces on the lower level and it has a loft. The foundations are sound but it needs quite a bit of work inside. There is a functioning bathroom, the last tenant did that…'

'Tenant? Then you don't own this farm?'

'Oh Lord no! Like I said – I fell into this by accident…'

'I see…' Snape said carefully. 'And the owner – have you any idea of his feelings about you taking on additional help?'

'You can rest easy there – he's been at me for quite a while to hire someone. But I wanted to do it on my own terms, not his. Despite what you think, I didn't want to give up what little control I had over my work here. If he hired someone else and paid them himself – well that's a different situation altogether, wouldn't you say?'

'Indeed I would. Very astute of you, Miss Barthélémy.'

'So at least I have done one thing right in your eyes…'

'You don't require my approval, nor should you seek it.'

'Ahh, but your approval seems so rarely given that one feels challenged to earn it.'

'Such feelings are entirely your own, Mademoiselle.'

Christiane said nothing and looked out the window. It was a winter wonderland, perfect for the Christmas season about to get underway. Snape looked past her shoulder and could see the glistening landscape. His life in exile was picturesque indeed, if one cared about such things.

'I should start seeing to my new home,' he said standing up.

'There is no rush – and since we are going to be working together you might as well call me Christiane – or Chris like most people do…'

'You may call me Mr. Ravenscroft – although I suppose that are likely to refer to me by my Christian name…'

'What else can you expect from an incompetent heathen like me.'

'Do not speak ill of yourself. Self-deprecation does not suit you…Christiane.'

'Is that a fact…Sebastian?'

'Yes. It is.'

'And you are never wrong, is that it?'

'Rarely; but yes I have made mistakes, very grave ones indeed. I grossly underestimated…'

Snape stopped himself and then stood up abruptly.

'It's best I get myself situated in my quarters sooner rather than later. We can discuss the farm work at dinner if that pleases you.'

Christiane sat in disbelief, not quite believing what had just happened and filled with questions about her new employee.

They were just as many as he had about her.


	8. Curiouser and Curiouser

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ **

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 008: Curiouser and Curiouser…**

Snape found that Christiane wasn't joking when she said the outbuilding needed work inside. The walls had been over-run with damp and needed treating. The flooring needed to be re-laid. The list grew steadily longer but he was resolved to make the most of the situation. Goodness knows his former home in the North of England was far worse.

_Spinner's End_ – it was no loss to leave it behind, only the multitude of books which had lined its walls. Each and every one meticulously chosen and placed in its sacred space on the shelves that covered every inch of space right up to the ceiling, but it was a matter of practicality given the house was a typical two-up two-down affair.

This building – this _house_, his new house, was blessedly different. Had Christiane been more enterprising she would have renovated it long ago and let it to tourists who had more money than sense. It was quite a roomy affair, far more space than one person really needed, in his mind. But it suited him after having such cramped quarters at his former residence and even at Hogwarts. He couldn't say _'home'_ – he'd never really had a home. But gîtes were big business – and she could solve all her financial problems just by renting this out as self-catering accommodation.

He realised though it was a good idea – the place wasn't hers to let out for a profit. He was beginning to understand the complexities of her situation with the farm. In some ways she was being taken advantage of. But the one time he dared broach the subject they'd fallen out again, so he let the matter drop – for now.

The former professor had spent the better part of the weeks leading up to Christmas getting his house in order when he wasn't doing farm work or looking after the books. He let out a weary sigh as he surveyed his handiwork so far. He ached in places he never dreamt possible – but there was no doubting the satisfaction of having done it all himself – with some help from his employer here and there.

'Well you certainly have kept yourself busy,' Christiane said approvingly as she walked into the space and looked around. 'Nice job! It already looks a hundred times better in here…'

'Rather than throw out all these things, I propose you sell them at the car boot sale you mentioned. If the previous tenants had wanted them they would not have left it all behind. This lot should fetch a reasonable price.'

'Take what you can use – and then we will see about the rest. You need furniture down here and some of this stuff is actually quite nice…just needs cleaning and fixing up a bit...' She looked at a rickety table about to fall over. 'Well – ok, a lot….'

'What about you? Surely some of this interests you?'

'I don't have the room and besides, I've got all the things I'm getting rid of. Make a fresh start and all that…'

Christiane began putting up Roman blinds and heavy curtains and Snape protested, thinking that she had spent her own money.

'Before you say something to destroy my newly-recovered goodwill, you ought to know I rescued these from my attic. Something else some of the previous tenants left behind. The waste! They haven't even been used!' the young woman said tartly, 'And there are all sorts of things that you will find useful. You can bring in what you'd like to keep – everything is on the verandah. Anything you don't want, we can sell.'

Snape moved everything indoors while Christiane finished putting up the window dressings throughout his house. She ignored his muttered commentary and continued on with her work in his bedroom. There was an old bed, night-table and wardrobe which they had managed to heave up to the loft. It was a decent space and with a bit of airing the acrid smell that filled the place should clear. She secured the cream-coloured blind and then topped it with curtains that were a sumptuous shade of berry red which matched the blanket and comforter along with the decorative tapestry.

As a house-warning present, she had given him two authentic Bayeux Tapestries brought back from a weekend trip home. One was now hung in the large living space downstairs and the other she'd hung on the largest wall of the sleeping alcove one day while he tended the horses. He'd given her little more than a nod of acknowledgement for her efforts and hadn't taken them down, so he must not be terribly displeased. Beggars can't be choosers anyway, she thought to herself, and what was good for her would have to be good enough for him.

'There – nice and cosy!' she said as she stood back and admired her decorating skills. 'He'll be beating them off with a stick…'

'I will be beating whom?' Snape asked as he swooped into the room to see what she was up to.

The idea of someone being in his own intimate space made him feel…uneasy.

'Whoever it is that you'll be…getting it on with…when you get them up here,' she said with a strange gesture.

'_What kind of man do you think I am Miss Barthélémy?'_

'I don't think anything, Monsieur Ravenscroft,' Christiane said irritably as she pushed past him. 'Now about these things downstairs…'

**xxxOOOxxx**

Hermione and Ginny took their time in shopping in Diagon Alley and then headed for Selfridges and House of Fraser on Oxford Street. It wasn't often that they found time to spend together what with their jobs and the work both did for the Order. At Grimmauld place there were always too many other people around and privacy wasn't in abundance, not even for the odd intimate encounter with their boyfriends now and then.

They sat in a corner booth of a large Muggle restaurant. Here at least they could be assured of privacy as they tucked into a nice meal. Voldemort had spies in every magical establishment between Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley and the Ministry of Magic. If you were smart you talked about idle things like the weather, your grandmother's hideous carpet or the latest Nimbus Millenniums about to go on sale. People were dying because of things they'd said or because someone misinterpreted what they said. They were safer amongst Muggles than they were with their own kind when it came to needing to chat.

'So – I'm not just imagining that something seems to be going on with you and Lupin, right?' Ginny asked in a low whisper.

Hermione let out a deep breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

'Oh, Ginny – I've needed someone to talk to, but Remus has insisted that we don't tell anyone…'

'Then maybe we shouldn't talk about it; forget I mentioned it.'

Hermione blew a wayward lock of hair from off her face and looked at her friend tearfully.

'I hate keeping secrets, it's like he thinks I'll be ashamed of him or something dreadful will happen because I'm with someone who just happens to be…what he is…'

'Maybe… maybe he's just trying to be careful because of Tonks. Look at her – she's a wreck!'

'She brought it on herself! He doesn't love her and he's told her about a hundred times already,' Hermione snapped.

'Calm down, Hermione. I'm not the enemy here, ok? But I don't see why he just doesn't tell her he's got someone. It doesn't matter who it is – she'd have to get over it whoever it was.'

'Except knowing it's a stranger isn't quite the same as knowing he's with me. Look at Cho and Harry – if he'd shagged her rather than some Muggle after everything you had been through before you wouldn't have been nice about it at all!'

'We were kids then, Hermione; of course I wouldn't have been. But too much has happened, and we are all different people now. Tonks is a grown woman – she'll just have to deal with it. Fred and Angelina still manage to get on well enough even with everything they've been through…'

'I guess you're right,' Hermione sighed as she poked her lasagna. 'And having to deal with her marrying Oliver… I still don't have the words for _that_…'

'You can't help who you fall in love with, or who you love. That's what Mum keeps telling Fred.'

'_Maybe sometimes you should,'_ Hermione whispered tearfully.

'Hermione – are you having doubts about Lupin?'

Hermione sniffed and tears started streaming down her face. Fortunately they were behind a beaded doorway, so no one could see them.

'I like him, Ginny. I like him enough. It's just that… I don't _feel_…'

'Your stomach doesn't turn backflips when you see him or think about him; the earth doesn't move when he looks at you or he touches you…?'

Hermione laughed quietly.

'You and Harry – God I really do envy you sometimes!'

'I know – I can see it, Hermione. That's why I wanted us to talk. You should be too caught up in your own relationship to be fussed about me and Harry.'

'_I know.'_

'How did you two end up together anyway? I'm sorry, but I am just trying to understand…'

Hermione sat and thought for a minute. And the fact that she had to think at all bothered her as much as it did Ginny.

'Hermione…? Surely you have some thoughts as to why you are with the man?'

'He's good and kind… We can talk about things…' Hermione reasoned. 'He knows a lot…'

'Mmm hmm sounds like Flitwick…'

'He _what?_'

'You might as well be talking about anyone. You don't even sound like you are even sure about what it is you actually have with him. Its all up here,' Ginny said gesturing to her head, 'rather than _here_,' she added, gesturing to her heart and then the area wizards believed the soul was.

Hermione was quiet and looked at her friend gravely.

'He thinks I'm in love with someone else…' she said tonelessly. 'At least that's what he hints at. You know, he's quite passive-aggressive – Remus is. He plants a seed and then convinces you that it's all your doing…'

'Are you sure you aren't just coming up with some excuse outside of the obvious?'

'You see – even though you have your doubts about him, you won't even entertain rational thought. _He is such a good man, he has suffered so much – he is just so damn agreeable_ that no one will consider that he has his faults! He's got a side to him that is not particularly pleasant!'

'Well – no one else really knows him like you do, I guess…'

Hermione snorted under her breath.

'Sirius knows; he knows better than anyone. But he won't hear a bad word said against the last remaining Marauder besides himself. Remus hides who he really is – even from himself. He is so bloody desperate to be liked…no one can see his imperfections…he won't allow it.'

'Sirius thinks you're in love with Snape – _they all do_. And I've heard him saying things that just shouldn't be said – and especially to Lupin. So if you want a reason for why Remus has an attitude – his old friend and good buddy is to blame.'

'I see,' Hermione said tightly. 'So – he's stirring with Remus as much as he used to with Professor Snape. It figures!'

'Defending Snape to them doesn't do you any favours, Hermione.'

'With Dumbledore not around somebody has to talk some sense! If Professor Snape fell into our laps tomorrow he'd be shopped to the Dementors just like that,' Hermione said with a quiet snap of her fingers. 'And I actually wouldn't put it past some of them just kill him on sight for the hell of it. Look at Harry, Ginny, he's obsessed with Snape and it's got to stop before he does something to gets him in trouble!'

'No less than you are, Hermione. I'd say there has to be a middle ground there between the two of you.'

Hermione leaned in closer and spoken even softer than before.

'Do you really believe that he tried to murder Professor Dumbledore Ginny? Do you really think that all those rumours about things he supposedly did before he came to Dumbledore are true?'

The flame-haired girl sighed.

'You don't become a Death Eater without doing some horrendous things. And you don't stay one unless they are absolutely convinced that you are dedicated to their cause…and they are not easy people to convince of anything.'

'Forget the Defense Against the Dark Arts crap from Moody! This is me, Ginny! Do you think he's raped and killed people! Do you really believe him capable of that!'

'I don't think that he has done it in the time that we've known him, maybe; but I'm not going to pretend that it isn't possible that he did a lot of evil things before he 'saw the light'… He's not a nice man, Hermione. He never has been no matter how many lives he might have saved for our side.'

'So you do think he's capable of it then?'

'Why is this so important to you, Hermione? You are so desperate to see something good in him that quite frankly seems doesn't make sense to a lot of people. You sound like you do feel something for him; and given what he's put you through over the years it doesn't make sense.'

'I'm not in love with him. Stop looking at me like that! I'm not in love with him and I don't love him! I just think… The Order is going to have a lot to answer for when Dumbledore gets back…'

'Dumbledore isn't coming back, Hermione! There is no way he can survive what Snape did to him!'

Hermione realised it was futile to carry on like this. No matter what she said, she wasn't really being heard. She probably expected too much from her friend, especially after all their family had been through. Snape was nowhere near the ambush that George had been caught up in, and yet he was blamed for everything. He'd been off on an assignment for Dumbledore, ironically enough, but still everyone thought the resident Death Eater should have known _something_. That was what he was there for, wasn't it?

'Why is that no one has ever seen him with a girlfriend?' Ginny mused out loud. 'Even with all the opportunities as school – he never tried it on with any of us… He could have really taken advantage… Lord knows Lockhart did from what I heard…'

'You mean there is something decent about our old Potions Master after all?'

'Come on, Hermione! He's not exactly Playwitch centerfold material, now is he!' Ginny laughed. 'But there were a few stupid ones around who would have dropped their knickers for him if they'd been given a shot…'

'They needed the grades, more like…'

'Uh huh; you know – you still haven't answered my question.'

'And which one would that be?'

'How did you end up with Lupin?'

'I don't know, Ginny! How do people end up getting together? I could ask the same about you and Harry you know?'

'At least Harry and I have a bit of a history – even if it was a childish crush on my part. You and Lupin – that's just a bolt out the blue.'

Ginny looked at her friend closely.

'He must have really been something…'

'What do you mean?'

'Well – to get you in bed with him! I never figured him to be like that – he's not your type at all!'

'And what is my type, exactly?'

'It's not _him_, Hermione. You're the one having to sit and think about what he is to you and about the fact that you don't feel anything for him. Is the sex that mind-blowing?'

'GINNY!'

'I'm just playing Devil's Advocate – the same way you did when I went out with Michael Corner back at school.'

Hermione looked so under-enthused by the idea of shagging the werewolf that Ginny took pity on her.

'I know you aren't romantic and crazy like I am about feelings and all that, Hermione. I just want you to be happy – and right now I can see that you aren't.'

'I know. I just want all this to end… I want…I want more than I will probably ever have. I'm not the prettiest girl, Ginny. I've only ever had my intelligence to recommend me. Men don't usually go for brains first, second or even third. Remus doesn't care about my looks and he at least respects the fact that the best I can offer anyone is companionship. I'll never be anyone's idea of a trophy wife.'

'Maybe one day when you start to really believe in yourself, you'll see that you can do better…and that you have a lot more to offer a man, the right man, than being a fuck buddy.'

'Even if it's not Ron?'

'You're too good for him, Hermione! He's about as emotionally intelligent as your average First Year. Stop settling for men who can't make you happy! Ron's no better than an overgrown child!'

'If only it were that easy. We can't all be like you, Ginny. You've never been short of attention, not at school and not since leaving. And you ended up with a man that more than a few would sell their souls to Voldemort for.'

'They are attracted to his fame and what they think it will bring them. But I guarantee you none of them are interested now unless he lives – and doesn't have Death Eaters breathing down his back. There is no halfway with Harry – you have to take the bad with the good. And quite frankly none of those stupid girls at school was up to the job of loving him and accepting all the baggage that comes with it.'

'_Ginny…'_

'You know what I'm saying is right. I love him and I am willing to risk my life for him. I am willing to die for the love I have for Harry – and I have no regrets, not one. He is not an easy man to love, but I do love him. Even you couldn't do that, remember?'

There was an awkward silence as both women looked at their cold meals.

'You've got charisma, Ginny. You've got this something that makes people pay attention when you walk into a room. There could be other women ten times as attractive, but it's you that people want to be around. I don't have that. I am an 'insufferable know-it-all for a lot of people. I know I have a sensitivity chip missing. I know that I am not easy to be around. I'm useful, that's about as far as it goes for some…'

It wasn't every day that Hermione revealed so much of herself, and especially her insecurities.

'Even today,' Hermione continued sadly. 'You have no idea how much you are looked at and admired. You've got that something that no amount of reading books is going to give me. No one sees me, the real me – _inside_. No one, except Remus… he tolerates me pretty well, really.'

'Maybe people do see you and admire you for the woman you are, Hermione. You just don't want to believe it… I think you do need your head examined if you think that Remus Lupin is the best that you can do. I don't have anything against him, except that being with him doesn't make you happy. You can't be that desperate – not in a month of Sundays. You are the woman who pulled Viktor Krum – and he is still trying to get you back!'

'Viktor – people don't think much of him except for what he does on the Quidditch pitch; and he's lovely really.' Hermione said blushing. 'He makes me feel like I am the most important thing in the world to him; like I am the most beautiful girl in the world… he always treated me like a princess… That's what he always calls me… his princess…'

'Do you have any idea what you look like when you think of him Hermione,' Ginny said, taking her friend's hands into her own. 'The way you look now is the way you _should_ look when you talk about Lupin. You love Viktor – you always have. It's only your insecurities about the fan-girls and becoming famous as his girlfriend that has kept you apart.'

'Oh come on! That's just ridiculous!'

'Is it? You just compared yourself to me, _making me feel like shit by the way_, and justified settling for Lupin because he _'tolerates'_ you. For Merlin's sake Hermione, get it together with Viktor while you still can or else one day you will wake up and it will be too late. He won't wait forever, and you are damned lucky he even wants to be bothered after what you've put him through. I don't understand the hold Lupin has over you...but at least you know Krum loves you and he always has.'

'Viktor sent word; he'd like me to go to Bulgaria for a bit. His family would like to see me again – can you believe it?'

'Why wouldn't they – you are the woman he loves, after all? You got on with them every time you went out there!'

'I've never met Remus' parents. He lives on their property – and yet not once have I met them since we've been together…'

'If it were me – I'd be following my heart and going for the man that loves me and that I do have feelings for, rather than someone who puts up for me for whatever crazy reasons of his own. Look at the life Lupin leads, how can that be any good for you when it's not what you really want to be dealing with?'

Hermione sighed.

'So breaking up with Remus is a good idea then…?'

Ginny snorted.

'I don't know why you even went there in the first place…'

'Arggghhh how could I be so stupid! I just wanted to forget Viktor and put all that behind me!'

'You what? _Hermione Jane Granger_ – aren't you the one _always_ lecturing on the perils of rebounding and using people for something as idiotic as forgetting someone else you love! Do you remember what you said to Terry Boot just last week about Padma?'

'Oops?'

'Oops my arse!'

'I've let this carry on for too long. I'm going to settle it, tonight when we get back. I should have never pushed Viktor away and at least it'll give him a Tonks a chance – at least she does have a mad pash for him…'

'Well that's one consolation…'

'What is?'

'That it's Viktor Krum you are aching to shag and not Snape!'

**xxxOOOxxx**

Christiane and Snape were going over the house accounts when a car pulled up out front.

'It's a bit late, isn't it?' Snape said with a sniff. 'Expecting company?'

'Were you?'

The former professor scowled and retreated to the kitchen while Christiane went to answer her front door. He heard the sound of it opening followed by rather enthusiastic squealing. There was rapid fire French being mixed with Jèrriais and laughter. She had more than one visitor. He would just collect his coat from the coat closet and go home.

Before he'd had time to clear the room, Christiane stepped into it.

'It's about time you met two of the most important people in my life,' said breezily.

'Sebastian… this is my sister Esmé; Esmé, this is Sebastian Ravenscroft – my assistant. You should see what he's been doing to le petit maison. It looks a lot better with him living in it…'

'Mademoiselle, Enchanté. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer,' Snape replied coolly.

'Merci beaucoup. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer également,' Esmé replied with a dimpled smile. 'If you don't mind, Monsieur Ravenscroft, I would like to practice my English. I have heard quite a bit about you and how much you have helped my sister…'

She began to potter around the kitchen, taking down large mugs and putting the kettle on to boil.

'How did you get all the way out here in this snow?' Christiane said taking a seat.

This was Esmé's home away from home, so she would just leave her to it.

'Your guardian angel… I ran into him in St. Helier and he insisted on bringing me out here; he'll be back in a minute. I was going to come tomorrow on the bus. I've got lodgings in town, paid for by Le Café Rouge!'

'You still would have had a long walk! And in this weather, you must be mad! And why are you staying in town when you can be out here with me.'

'Well… I got myself a little gig over here for the week and thought why not? Then we can go home together. Besides, you know what maman is like right now… you can't move for all the decorations and boxes of food. She is got everyone running around like mad – I tell you c'est fou! It's mad! I'm happy to be missing all that preparation this year. We can stroll in, as sweet as you please on Friday and just take our shoes off… Anyway – the rest of the band is in town and it wouldn't be right to live in the lap of luxury while they make do with a B&B…'

'You took a gig so far from home at Christmas time – you are playing with fire girl!'

'At least I am coming home and brining you with me. God almighty, I will be SO glad when the holidays are over!'

Snape said nothing as he prepared the mug of coffee handed to him. It was quite something to see Christiane and her sister together; if he hadn't know who they were he could have easily mistaken them for twins they looked so much alike.

'I was thinking we could have a little soiree at the café after the show tomorrow night. It will be like back home. Good food, good wine and good friends.' Esmé said warmly as she sat across from Snape. 'You will come too, Monsieur Ravenscroft?'

He enquired about her music as Christiane ran to get the door.

'I keep telling you – that thing needs to be serviced. It's not like you can't afford it, _Sir_,' came Christiane's teasing voice down the hall.

Snape was too busy listening to her sister to hear the response of her other visitor.

'Gill – I have someone for you to meet,' she said enthusiastically as she stepped into the kitchen. 'This is my assistant, Sebastian Ravenscroft; Sebastian – it's about time you met the man who keeps the roof over our heads…'

Snape looked up…

…and found himself staring into the shocked eyes of Guillaume D'Arcy.


	9. It Happened One Night

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ **

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**Authors Note: **Aspecial thank you to 'Lady Atreides' at ff . net for reminding me of the _Imperius_! I aim to right a few perceived wrongs with the Scrimgeour storyline in this chapter. But having watched an interview with Ralph Fiennes about his portrayal of Voldemort on the Goblet of Fire DVD – the rants and rails are a part of the personality… the Dark Lord has deep mood swings… That's something I do want to work with.

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 009: It Happened One Night…**

Snape looked at the man who had come to his rescue when he set foot on Jersey all those weeks ago.

'So… we meet again, Monsieur Ravenscroft…' D'Arcy said quietly.

'Again?' Christiane asked as she looked at Snape, then D'Arcy and finally back at Snape again.

'We made our acquaintance upon my arrival,' Snape replied evenly. 'Monsieur D'Arcy was gracious enough to provide me with shelter from the storm.'

'Did he really?' Christiane asked as she looked again at the man her sister always referred to sarcastically as her "Guardian Angel".

'Remember our conversation the day I returned from England? Monsieur Ravenscroft was the stray I referred to…'

'So _he's_ the one who _isn't as pretty as me_!' Christiane sputtered, trying not to laugh. She nearly choked herself with the effort.

'As you well know, I never tell anything less than the absolute truth,' D'Arcy said self-righteously.

'C'est fou!' Esmé muttered as she looked at D'Arcy and then at her sister. She said something else that they didn't catch amidst their considerable laughter, but Snape definitely did – and his eyes wandered casually in her direction.

Esmé couldn't believe how condescending and insulting both of them were. The tension in the room now was almost unbearable and her sister and D'Arcy were oblivious. The stranger couldn't help what he was any more than the rest of them could. But it was easy to feel so superior when one was as wealthy as D'Arcy was.

'You know, Monsieur D'Arcy, that _you would not be considered so handsome nor would you be so interesting to so many, including the woman who wears your wedding ring, if you were not so rich…_' she said icily with a pointed look.

Snape's black eyes met Esmé's brown ones – and she gave him the faintest hint of a wink.

'Esmé – apologize!' Christiane barked. 'I won't have it! Not from you and not in my home – the home which I wouldn't have if it wasn't for Gill!'

'Given the company you keep and the life you lead, I will not consider that an insult, Mademoiselle Esmé," D'Arcy replied with a glare. However I will agree that it was Insane indeed for Monsieur Ravenscroft to take off in the middle of a blizzard. There was nothing but a note left behind to even indicate that he'd ever been in my home. Hill went looking for you the moment he found your note, Ravenscroft...at his own peril I might add.'

'_More fool him,'_ came Snape's disinterested reply.

'Good God Man! We were very concerned about you,' D'Arcy continued irritably as he reacquainted himself with Snape's prickly personality. 'We thought you had surely met a gruesome end out there in the open. Although I had no doubt that I would see you again, if you had been fortunate enough to survive the cold.'

'He nearly didn't,' Christiane said. 'He was lucky enough to find his way into my barn, but the cold nearly killed him. I found him, and God help me – somehow I got the strength to get him on the sled and pulled him in here.'

'So _that's_ what happened to the carpet!' Esmé exclaimed. "You failed to mention that little when you told your tale to Maman…'

'Yes, it was torn up by the runners – I had to get rid of it_ and_ re-do the floors.' Christiane said coldly. 'Anyway, he was at death's door for a couple of weeks when the storm was at its worst. It nearly took the life out of me to heal him – to make him well again. He wasn't particularly pleased with the situation when he regained consciousness; but everything worked out alright enough in the end I guess.'

'You have a knack for landing on your feet, Ravenscroft,' D'Arcy said with a smile. 'Something you have in common with Mademoiselle Esmé!'

Esmé felt the stranger's empty black eyes on her as the blood drained from her face. D'Arcy and Christiane continued to make fun of her even more. For them it was easy, given they thought it was simple embarrassment. However, Esmé did not like being talked about, and especially by D'Arcy.

'I won't deny it's a shock – but I am very glad to know that you made it,' D'Arcy said, ignoring her as he took a seat.

'He has more lives than a cat it sounds like…'Christiane muttered as she served D'Arcy a tall mug of coffee and buttered a few pains au chocolat for him. Esmé reached for one after the plate was placed in front of the landlord and her hand was slapped back by her sister.

'Oh – ahh do feel free to have one?' D'Arcy muttered.

'No, that's alright. You know what I'm like. I see food and just can't resist, whether I am not hungry or I actually _am_,' Esmé said blankly.

'Are you in a rush to get back to town tonight?' D'Arcy asked her. 'Your friends are no doubt keeping themselves occupied with some of the fine ladies of Jerri. A little inclement weather hasn't likely stopped them judging by their behaviour earlier...'

'Ahh, you cast your judgment as always, eh Monsieur D'Arcy? The boys have their fair share of groupies wherever they go; not dissimilar from yourself from what I observe whenever I come here…'

'As do you; you were no short of attention the last time you were here,' D'Arcy said sharply.

'Monsieur D'Arcy, I wouldn't know anything about what you call 'attention'. I do what I am here to do and go back to my lodgings – _alone_. Since you take great pleasure in minding my business as much as you do everyone else's, surely you would have noticed that!'

'You'll never get a man with that attitude, sister _dearest_.' Christiane sniffed. 'And since it wasn't your money or the band's that paid for the room, there really isn't an issue with whether you use it or not. You might as well stay here and save Gill the trouble of having to go all the way to St. Helier again and back.'

'I don't particularly like how you get your men, _sister_,' Esmé replied icily. 'For a start, the right one will be the one who is _all mine_ if he really does want me. As long as I don't have a problem with being alone then nobody else should care that I am. And second, like I said earlier; it wasn't my idea to come out here tonight – and this was why! You do this _every _time, Chris, and it's not right! Play your games if you both want – just leave me out of them!'

Snape looked at his companions, restraining a considerable smirk. Christiane looked as though she'd been slapped and the grin was sufficiently wiped from D'Arcy's face as everyone fell silent. It was interesting how they carried on, raising themselves above everyone else under the banner of supposed goodness and open-mindedness and yet had the temerity be as thoughtless as they had been tonight.

'Why don't we go into the living room, Gill?' Christiane snapped as she stood and picked up a bottle of wine that she'd sat on the counter upon his arrival. 'There are some things I have wanted to talk to you about…'

'Yes…as have I. Ravenscroft, if I don't see you again before I leave – good to know you're alright. Esmé – I'm sure you can find your way back to St. Helier,' D'Arcy said as he grabbed two long-stemmed wine glasses and the opener from their usual places. It was clear he also knew his way around Christiane's kitchen as much as her sister did.

Snape's eyes were being opened to his employer and her landlord in more ways than one. And he definitely had a sense that Esmé was not at all happy about it. He looked over at her as she grunted slightly at the retreating backs of her sister and D'Arcy.

'I must apologise for ruining your evening,' Esmé said as she looked at Snape once she heard the door to the living room close. 'I should have stayed in St. Helier…'

'Are you intending to return this evening?'

'Yes; I'm going to leave now while the buses are still running.'

'Won't your sister mind?'

'She'll mind it more if D'Arcy has to see my face across the breakfast table tomorrow morning.'

'Oh?' Snape asked with wide eyes.

'I've heard it said that a woman's heart is an ocean of secrets; but none can rival that of Monsieur D'Arcy…'

Snape was beginning to wonder just what the hell had he fallen into when Esmé disrupted his thoughts.

'Say goodbye for me, will you. I can just make the next bus, I think…'

'Permit me to escort you to the stop. You shouldn't be wandering the countryside at this hour by yourself and it's quite a walk.'

'Thank you, Monsieur Ravenscroft; Jerri isn't dangerous – I can manage just as I always do when I come out here on these unplanned visits…'

Snape quirked his eyebrow.

'Despite the relative safety of Jerri, prudence never goes amiss…' he replied as he led the way to their coats.

Esmé put a finger to her lips and tip-toed past the living room door. There was laughter followed by a faint rustling and then sighs. She and Snape said nothing as they donned their outer garments and took their leave.

'Are you sure you want to do this? I'll be fine…' Esmé protested as Snape took one of her hands and hauled her through the snow once they were outside. It was a bit hard going because the ground was heavy with packed snow and ice and the wind was starting to pick up again. As it was it came up to their knees. 'I'm sure your house is a much nicer proposition than being out here. I don't want to cause any more problems than I already have…'

'If this were a problem, I would not be here now I can assure you…' Snape replied with a frown.

Feeling that she'd somehow offended him, Esmé wisely decided to stay quiet as they stomped along in relative darkness. The odd light or two twinkled in the distance as they made their way towards the road that connected the homestead to the rest of the parish and beyond.

Mercifully they made it just in time; the large coach that was their transport was grinding down the desolate road just as they arrived at the stop. Snape flagged the driver down and then helped Esmé up after it skidded to a stop.

'Thank you…' she said quietly, feeling self-conscious with the driver looking at the two of them.

'Are you traveling, Monsieur? If not, I must get going…I want to get home too!' the driver barked.

'No…' Esmé began as she reached into a pocket.

'Yes, I am,' Snape said impulsively, climbing aboard. 'Two tickets to St. Helier please...'

'Hang on…' Esmé interrupted.

'Why don't you find our seats, Esmé...' Snape replied.

The young woman gave him a dirty look and then did as she was told. She walked all the way to the back and took a window seat in the darkness of the coach. Snape joined her and sat down after taking off his coat, hat and scarf and putting them in the rack above their seats next to Esmé's.

'It's only 9 o'clock,' she whispered.

Snape looked at his watch,

'Indeed it is – it must be a singular gift, being able to tell time…'

The only response was an eye roll.

'Tell me, _Sebastian_, are you always in the habit of escorting young women home who don't need it?'

'Tell me, _Esmé_, are you always in the habit of taking seats with strange men far away from prying eyes?'

'Only the ones I want to know better…and who don't seem to be particularly enamoured with being around other people any more than I am.'

'You don't know me…'

'You don't know me either…but it's you who is out here with me, not the other way around… And since you've gone to this trouble, I can only think that you want to get to know me as much as I do you…'

'Better a young woman than one past her prime,' Snape snarked.

'Better an older man whose been around the block a few times and knows what he's doing than a younger one just fumbling along in the darkness… It's not the sea that gets you sick, it's the motion of the ocean.'

'_Is that a fact?' _

'I can't speak for anyone else but myself… Monsieur Sebastian,' Esmé smirked. 'I just know what _I_ like…and what I'm sick and tired of…'

Snape chuckled.

'I take it you are not as fond of D'Arcy as your sister is.'

'I am not as fond of him as most of their parish is… then again he owns most of it so they do what they have to for the sake of what they have. He's fair enough, from what I've been told. But I wouldn't want to be owned like they are. I like having something that is mine, something that no one can take from me or use against me.'

'Does that extend to the man in your life?' Snape enquired cautiously.

'It would do, if there was someone.'

'So – there isn't anyone, anyone in particular?'

'Not yet…' Esmé said looking out the window first before looking in Snape's direction. 'And you…?'

'No one… not yet,' Snape found himself admitting, much to his surprise.

**xxxOOOxxx**

'So; what's so important that it couldn't wait until we at least had dinner, Hermione,' Lupin asked as he strode into his small sitting room and then turned to face her. 'Why are you still wearing your coat?'

'Because I'm not staying…you won't want me to after you hear what I've got to say.'

'So – what is it _this_ time? Ginny having another crisis with Harry?'

'No, I am!'

'You what? Is something wrong between you?'

Lupin moved towards her to touch her face and without thinking, Hermione pulled back.

"Ahh, so this is it; after all this time, all the madness – this is how it ends.'

'Madness? What are you talking about?'

'Your _obsession_ with Severus Snape! This** insane** _infatuation_ that you won't let go of!'

'Remus – I am getting sick and tired of _telling you and everyone who listens to you_ I feel **_NOTHING _**for Professor Snape! I don't particularly like him any more than the rest of you, but Dumbledore always believed in him – surely that should be enough for anyone! _Someone_ _needs to be the voice of reason_ since Dumbledore isn't around!'

'And that's supposed to be you, is it?' Lupin laughed. 'I don't think any of us did you any favours by setting you up on that lofty pseudo-intellectual perch of yours.'

'_Pseudo-intellectual?'_ Hermione gasped.

'The only thing you know is what you read in books! If it's not in a book then it's not worth your consideration! There is a difference between intelligence of the intellect and intelligence from the senses – _from living and being_, Hermione! You haven't faced just how cruel and cold the Muggle world can be any more than you have faced what that bastard and those like him have done to _our_ world! Its not you who has been on the front lines to see how evil, evil can really be! Your nose is stuck in research at the Ministry and what little you have to contribute to the Order is only ever about your precious Severus or the latest _big_ contact you've made through your networking! And that so-called networking hasn't amounted to much!'

'I am doing what Dumbledore wants me to do!' Hermione said shakily. 'I'm not to discuss to anything specific during the meetings! Even he told you that before he…!'

'Since when have any of you always done what everything that Dumbledore wants you to do, eh? You don't even talk to me – **me**, the man you've been conveniently _using_ since Snape isn't here!'

'That's not fair! I thought I was in love with you!'

'Ahh – so you **thought** you were in love with me? And reading some book has no doubt convinced you of what your feelings really should be! How very like you!'

'I don't have to listen to this!'

'No you don't! Go on and run – run like you always do when things get just a bit too honest! The fact is that other than Snape, your big, important job is the only thing you talk about! Sometimes I think you and Percy would be quite a match! Both filled with your own self-importance; neither of you willing to care about anything except making a good impression with the right people! I don't even know who you are anymore – **_you certainly aren't the girl that I KNEW I loved_**! I don't know what the real attraction is for you with Severus – but you'll only get hurt by it in the end! Nothing good comes from anything to do with him! And seeing what he's done – and knowing what he did to become what he is… I never thought that the likes of him…'

'No one remains the same, Remus…except _you_ funnily enough! You're always _'Good Old Lupin'_ who never puts a foot wrong, who never says anything unkind or out of turn; except when it comes to me…and Professor Snape. You're so passive-aggressive when it suits you…and yet if I said one word against you no one would ever believe it. It would just be more of_ "oh, that's just Hermione, you know what she's like…"_ and the funny thing is you don't really know me at all, not deep down where it counts! You have never loved me, Remus; only your_ idea_ of me! I gave you value because of my job and everything I was turning my back on for you! It fed your ego and your image to have someone like me be willing to be shunned and outcast socially because she loved you! You're no better than your friends, you know that? Sirius wouldn't condescend to do anything but screw me behind your back and then whinge to you about how you need to get some standards because there are far more attractive girls than me! He's as much a hypocrite as he ever was and you are just as bad!'

'_Sirius…?'_

Lupin began to laugh. He shook his head incredulously and then flopped down into a seat.

'You are so full of yourself, aren't you Miss Granger? He wouldn't condescend as to…'

'You're a skilled Legilimens, Remus. Oh don't try and deny it! You **are **– so why not use that gift of yours to find out a few home truths about your old buddy! He hasn't changed; he's the same as he ever was – its no wonder the Order hasn't imploded on itself given his shagging around! It shouldn't take for Dumbledore to be around for people to get their act together!'

'You slept with him? You slept with Sirius!'

'No, actually; I didn't! I turned him down cold and it just so happens that after that I stopped being one of his favorites and he started the bitching about me – and especially to you and Harry! He's vindictive, manipulative and he's selfish – and one day it's going to cost him and the rest us! He's not a teenager anymore! This isn't some game and its time he grew up!'

Lupin glared at her, and Hermione took a step back.

'He wasn't so drunk that he didn't know what he was doing. You know what he's like, Remus! A man like him doesn't want to go a long time without companionship and it's not like he can get outside of headquarters, now can he and its his own stupid fault! You can be completely asexual until it suits you not to be but Sirius won't play that game for anyone. He thought he was doing me a favour – thought he was going to show me what being with a so-called "_real man_"…He was too bloody aggressive and it scared the hell out of me!'

'ENOUGH! I think it's time we ended this farce…!'

'Yes, the truth hurts Remus! There are loads of truths **_you_** never want to face about the people around you – the people that you decide to like and the ones you want to like you! You play the martyr – and it doesn't suit you!'

Lupin sprang from his seat, his eyes filled with rage. The half of him that was a flesh-and-blood hadn't been this close to the werewolf who battled for dominance within for a long time; but Hermione, she was enough to push him over the edge…she always had been. No one had ever challenged him the way she had once she became of age. He mistook her assertiveness with him for something else...he had to have done, right?

'Go – since that's what you want. Go before I…'

'_Before you what?_ Introduce me to your parents? Come to the Ministry functions I kept inviting you to as my partner? Lay our relationship out in the open to the Order? It's not like no one knows, people aren't as stupid as you want them to be sometimes! Even Snape knew better…he always told me that…!'

'_Snape!_ Not that again! Just get out, Hermione! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!'

Hermione said nothing as she turned on her heels and left as he demanded. There was the slam of the front door and then she was gone… and he knew that nothing could salvage this. There was nothing he could say or do given how much they'd lost control of the situation.

It was a bitter pill to swallow.

_Snape._

Once again, what should have been a pleasant evening was ruined. But not only that, his life was ruined and by Severus Snape of all people. The man had been the bane of his existence since their days at Hogwart's. It had vexed him to no end that a Death Eater was preferable as a Hogwarts teacher than him. Lupin had just as many qualifications as Snape in his chosen field if not more – and yet even after all this time, he knew Dumbledore would welcome Snape back and with some feeble-minded excuse if he survived. The old wizard had a way of convincing people when he wanted them to believe anything but the absolute truth.

Even Hermione had said once that Lupin had to be an extraordinary man for fighting a war on the side that would never give him anything. She had a point. A Death Eater could still hold a respectable position in wizarding society – but not a werewolf. No matter how much he sacrificed, no matter what he did – he would still be no better than shunned when all was said and done. Even with Dumbledore apparently on the brink of death, some were jockeying for position – and he was not one that counted for much in the eyes of his comrades beyond spying on the werewolves.

_It wasn't fair._

The only thing that held the Order together was Dumbledore. Without him, many of them would rarely have crossed paths, if ever. With him gone things had slowly begun to disintegrate. Dumbledore had only really wanted to make it up to him for choosing the debacles over his affliction in the first war…

But there was so much Albus didn't know… and Lupin wasn't going to be the one to tell the supposed Greatest Wizard of the age…not that it would matter given his imminently expected demise. And this situation with Hermione; it just added further problems to an already overburdened and complicated situation.

_It wasn't fair._

He had gone through so much for these people and because of them – and it just wasn't fair…

**xxxOOOxxx**

'Scrimgeour forgets his place!' Bellatrix snarled. 'If it were me I would…'

'You forget yourself, Sister,' Narcissa Malfoy hissed menacingly. 'If anyone heard you speak of such a thing…'

'If anyone heard what, dear ladies…' Voldemort said evenly as he entered the darkened sitting room which overlooked the Riddle family cemetery.

Both women immediately fell silent.

'Bellatrix – offering up yet another unsolicited opinion on matters which ought not to concern you as much as they clearly do?'

'No, My Lord, No! I… I did nothing of the kind…' Bellatrix said as she looked down at her feet.

'Narcissa? Does your sister speak the truth?'

Narcissa held his gaze.

'No – she does not.'

'And what opinion did she offer_ this_ time?'

'Only that Scrimgeour forgets his place.'

'And you take that to mean – _what_?'

'I take it to mean that he ought not to disrespect you as he does, my Lord. It was him that approached you, not the other way around. To a degree, he is not entirely necessary; merely useful. He only cares about himself…but he serves two Masters. He's a fool.'

Voldemort looked at the blonde witch appraisingly.

'There are moments when I perceive Lucius in you – no doubt that would have been his assessment as well.'

Narcissa nodded faintly. She was lucky to be alive and still in the Dark Lord's presence. His displeasure with her husband had not abated, and she would be a fool of the highest order to even so much as breathe his name in Voldemort's presence. At times like these, when the Voldemort appeared to be calm and reasonable, she had to be very careful. Every moment spent in his presence was like walking through a Muggle minefield. They were at war alright…as much with the mercurial moods of the Dark Lord as with those who opposed him.

'And what do you think Lucius would have suggested?' Voldemort asked, standing directly in front of her.

The tension in the room was almost unbearable as the game of cat and mouse rolled on.

'He would have proposed more direct influence in some instances, my Lord…' Narcissa answered truthfully; there no other answer she would have dared given.

'The Imperius?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Mmm; indeed,' Voldemort answered before taking a seat in his old armchair. 'I do think that he chose well when he chose you as his bride…'

Not sure of exactly what the Dark Lord meant, Narcissa was silent. She only knew what she _hoped_ he didn't mean…

'_My Lord it would be my greatest honour to…'_

'You. Will. Hold. Your. Tongue!' Voldemort hissed darkly. 'It is clear to me that I should have never used you as the intermediary between myself and Scrimgeour; you only seem to agitate the man even more than you do me. You may go – and I don't want to see you again until morning!'

Bellatrix opened her mouth and then shut it almost as quickly before walking out of the room as quickly as she dared. It was obvious; Narcissa was about to be given a job to do – her job! The Imperius was the one task that she had suggested to the Dark Lord herself all those months ago. But would he listen, no! Narcissa didn't have what it took to be a soldier any more than her husband had been. She was only useful when she was flat on her back for the sake of the cause…

Once they were alone, Voldemort beckoned for Narcissa to come to him.

'You have never failed your husband; so I believe I am quite right in expecting that you will not fail me. You never have done all these years…although just like the others even _you_ did not care to seek me out…to render aid in my gravest hour of need…'

'Had my husband and I had any inkling that you had survived Potter's curse, we would done what we could… The whole of our world believed you do be…gone.'

'Good answer… Lucius schooled you well, didn't he?'

Again Narcissa did not answer.

'I have a task for you, Mrs. Malfoy. And if you prove yourself, then I may have something even more important for you to do. But I do think you will quite like this first task…'

'Which is?'

'To secure your husband's release from Azkaban – by influencing Scrimgeour. He was very…_reluctant_…when I _proposed_ it to him.'

'By your command; I have business to attend to at the Ministry at the end of this week. I shall pay him a little visit, my Lord.'

'As I knew you would,' Voldemort answered with a nod.

'And the other task?'

'Never you mind. Scrimgeour first…'

'I will not fail you, my Lord,' Narcissa said with a faint bow.

'I am sure you value your life and those of your son and husband too much to fail me, Mrs. Malfoy.'

'_Draco?_ But he…'

'…is very much alive and has been under my watchful gaze for sometime now,' Voldemort said smoothly. 'He is not his father's son. His feeble attempts to run are laughable – he is no Severus Snape either although I think part of him wanted to be. Had he listened to Snape, given into his influence, things might well have been different for him – perhaps…'

The pale blonde visibly blanched.

'Succeed, Narcissa, and I will allow him to come home – along with Lucius…'

'By your command…'

'You may go…and of course you will speak of this to no one.'

Narcissa thought momentarily about Bella…

'I will see to your sister…' Voldemort said darkly. 'Now go… and I expect to hear from you as soon as you leave the Ministry. You are to come to me at once.'

She nodded, and then took her leave.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Once home, Narcissa instructed her chamber-elf to bring her dinner, which she would take in her bedroom after a hot bath. Her heart was racing and it was all she could do not to collapse. Why the hell hadn't she thought of this herself? The Imperius – the oldest trick in the world. And it did not hurt that the Minister had always been so overly fond of her… The very idea of it made her skin crawl, but she would do what it took to get near enough to cast the curse.

As she gave in to the comfort of the heat and scented water she thought about Lucius and Draco; after all this time, her prayers were going to be answered! The Dark Lord has been watching Draco – so he knew where her son was even when she did not. _His "feeble attempts to run were laughable,"_ Voldemort had said. Narcissa blinked back tears. Even knowing how much pain she was in being in this house all alone, the Dark Lord did nothing to assuage her concerns though he could have. But why would he – this…_being_…this _thing_…this thing that did not _feel_. Cat and mouse – how he played that game so well with all of them; that is, until he grew tired of them…

But she knew for certain now that Draco was alive. He was alive and he would be coming home along with the man she loved more than life itself; and the only one she loved more than him was her son. It didn't matter that Draco wasn't his father or even Severus Snape; the point was that he would be coming home. And they could start to rebuild and be a family once more…

Narcissa tried not to think about Severus, about how he could possibly be so fortunate be on the run for so long when so many others had failed and paid for it with their lives.

He couldn't be alive, surely not after all this time.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape and Esmé sat in Le Café Rouge, enjoying a traditional French dinner of six courses and their third bottle of wine. They talked mainly of France and her life in Bayeux. She was an artisan, weaving the tapestries that the area was famous for along with lacework.

'Weaving is a big industry because of the original Bayeux Tapestry. The tourists can get kits now and do small versions of their own – cheesy, but it's a good way ensure the art doesn't die out. What we do is hundreds of years old, handed down from generation to generation. It takes a lot of patience. Once maman showed me how do my first I was hooked. So now I make my own designs and weave when I can. I've got a workspace that I also sell from – it's my main bread and better along with lacework – the other big industry back home. It takes years to be fully qualified; luckily I did it where I had the time at school and during the summer…my classmates and teachers thought I was mad... I was supposed to want greater things in life – whatever they are…'

The ends of Snape's mouth curled up slightly.

'It is an odd but interesting choice; the arts aren't particularly lucrative except for small percentage of those who choose to pursue them for a living.'

'We grew up with it. It's a custom on maman's side of the family. I learned from her and my grand-mere, but I had my own ideas about what I wanted when I was done with school. I did an apprenticeship with Manufacture des Gobelins. I could never settle for anything other than what I do now. My life is my own – and I like keeping our Norman traditions alive.'

'So it isn't music that preoccupies your interest…'

'It's just a bit of fun really, nothing more. My week here is a favour to my friends in the band, they can't keep a singer to save their lives. But they want things I don't care about… like being like being nomads roaming from place to place along with big houses and being filthy rich. None of us is good enough and at least I am not afraid to be honest. I guess it's easier for me since I don't have any vested interest in it.'

'You are very fortunate indeed, Esmé. Most people spend the whole of their lives existing in a state of compromise, always wanting the one thing or a few that elude them or that which they have no genuine aptitude for. Relatively few of us are able to follow our heart's desire.'

Esmé looked at the dark man seated across from her in the candlelight. Snape found it uncomfortable – as though she were studying him and could see right through him.

'You must be terribly bored – hearing me talk about myself so much. I usually don't as a rule…'

'I'm not bored,' Snape said quietly. 'Far from it…'

'Sorry folks – but we need to close up. It's almost one in the morning,' said Sandrine, the hostess wearily.'

Snape and Esmé looked up at the last few stragglers besides themselves before paying their bill.

'I will need to get myself to the Night Bus…' Snape said as he stood and held Esmé's coat for her.

'The buses have all stopped running – the roads need to be plowed and salted. I'm afraid you're stuck in town for the night…'

The woman looked at Snape and then at Esmé.

'That won't be a problem…Thanks,' Esmé said as she followed the former professor to the front door.

'Be seeing you later tonight then, Esmé?' the hostess asked, clearly not quite believing what she was seeing. Her eyes hadn't really left them all night as it was.

'Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like always!'

Snape smirked as he took Esmé's arm and linked it through his as Sandrine closed and locked the door behind them.

Esmé looked up at him, feigning shock.

'Giving her even more to gossip about?' she laughed.

'Very perceptive, another singular gift; you are full of surprises…'

'Tell me, Monsieur – are you in the habit of always being so insulting?'

'Only with the women I intend to sleep with…'

'It's good to know I won't have to compete with another man…'

'Not tonight, at least…I'm only thinking of how good it will be to get inside where it's warm…'

Esmé started laughing and then forced herself to quiet down. There was no one about but them.

'You have quite a dirty laugh, Mademoiselle…'

'You have a one-track mind, Sir…'

Finally they reached her B every window was dark, but there was a faint light to be seen through one of the panes of glass in the door. She opened the door and a single light was on in the hallway. Snape followed her quietly as she made her way up two flights of stairs and then to the back of the building.

Silently they removed their cold, damp clothes and Esmé spread them across the radiators in the room. Fortunately it was dark, and they couldn't see very much of each other. He wcouldn't see how nervous she was and she couldn't see the look of apprehension that had crossed his face.

'Are there any extra blankets,' Snape whispered, breaking the silence. 'I should sleep on the floor…'

'Don't be silly – you'll catch your death down there. After what you've been through with your health…c'est fou…' she replied as she moved under the covers.

Snape took a deep breath – and then slid in next to her.

'Don't you care what people will say?' he asked defensively.

'If I did you wouldn't be here. And I don't – so neither should you…' Esmé yawned.

'Your sister…'

'If she says one word just make one of your sarcastic remarks about her and D'Arcy. He's screwing her brains out now – she'll be a wreck as always for the next few days and won't have time to think much about you or me. I'd be surprised if she even notices that you didn't sleep at home tonight… As long as I don't turn up dead she won't give a damn!'

Esmé sounded angry. The moon chose that moment to appear momentarily through the heavy cloud cover, and he could see that she _was_ quite upset.

'Why does their relationship bother you so much?' he asked he covered one of her hands with one of his as the room grew dark again. 'Aside from the fact that he is married, albeit unhappily…'

'Can we… can we just not talk about it right now?' Esmé said rolling onto her side, facing away from him.

'OK,' Snape whispered. 'I would never force you to do anything you don't want to…'

'I didn't think you would…' Esmé replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 'And I would never force you to do anything you don't want to, like talk about yourself…There are things I don't particularly want to talk about either… and I think everyone has secrets; it's no sin…'

Snape blinked his eyes in the darkness and was grateful she couldn't see him. He felt a renegade tear falling down a cheek and brushed it away before spooning into her. Esmé tucked his arm across her belly, and settled into a deep sleep as he lightly brushed his thumb across it.

Snape could not help but wonder just what the hell he was thinking to have done this? He hadn't given into his impulses in such a long time… But to deny one's impulses was to deny being human. He was many things, most of them not particularly nice, but he _was_ human. He was a human being with the same frailties and feelings as everyone else. He wasn't a nice man, but he was a good man. He wasn't good-looking like D'Arcy and had never been even remotely popular as a student… But he wasn't evil, was he? Even with what he'd done all those years ago when he was young and foolish; he'd never done anything of the sort as Lucius had done… He was no Dark Lord-In-Waiting as most assumed he was.

All of his blustering pretenses had melted away now that he was in bed with a good-looking woman; a woman who definitely wanted more if he was willing to give it.

But what would Esmé say – if she knew she was in bed with a rapist and murderer?

It would be some time before Snape allowed himself to fall asleep.


	10. Les Liaisons Dangereuses

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ **

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 010: Les Liaisons Dangereuses**

Never one to sleep for very long, Snape was the first to awaken the next morning. He glanced at the clock on the small table next to the bed; four o'clock… He was not surprised by the lack of a hangover. Muggle alcohol was nothing compared to that of the wizarding world; and three bottles of wine were no match for even a single shot of Firewhiskey.

Snape looked at the young woman slumbering peacefully next to him. And as he thought of her and the comforting warmth of her presence, he frowned. He had done the one thing he'd sworn he would never do: he'd lost control. He could potentially be putting himself in danger. He looked down at Esmé, now curled up against him. Even though they really did not know each other, he did not want to see her hurt. He did not want another innocent to forfeit their life because of associations with him, however minimal. And Jersey's resident Death Eater was filled with certainty that her life _would_ be forfeit should they not deliver themselves from temptation.

Esmé stretched in her sleep and her arm went up and across his abdomen as she snuggled closer. Snape was as ramrod stiff lying down as when he was standing. Rather than push her away as common sense and cool logic dictated, Snape drew her closer into his arms, and held her tightly for a moment. Then with all the willpower he could summon, he extricated himself from her embrace. Slowly and carefully he eased himself out of bed.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered as he looked down at her. 'I'm sorry – I can't do this…'

He grabbed his clothes and hurriedly put them on, acutely aware that he was compounding a mistake by making an even greater one. It seemed to be a recurring theme in his life; one that was overwhelmingly difficult to correct.

'Sebastian…' came a soft, hoarse murmur as he fastened the last button on his pants.

Snape froze, but refused to look down at the woman who had definitely ensnared his senses. If he didn't turn his back on her and walk away now, he would fall over the precipice.

'Sebastian…?' she mewed gently.

'_Why is this happening to me,' Snape hissed in his mind. 'Why in Merlin's name is this happening to me of all people!'_

The young woman adjusted herself – and reached for him yet again. Feeling nothing, she began to wake up. Esmé awoke to the sight of Snape inching across the room to the door as quickly and quietly as he dared.

'You weren't even going to say goodbye…' she whispered hoarsely. 'Not even so much as a note? I guess I don't rank as high as D'Arcy apparently did in that respect…'

'Don't even compare yourself to him,' Snape said, finding his voice but not looking at her. 'You are everything he is not.'

'I find that hard to believe.'

'And why is that?' Snape queried.

'_Leave her be!' the devil on his shoulder screamed. 'You owe her nothing – you have shared space in a bed, nothing more. There were no intimacies shared or promises made. You owe her nothing!'_

'Because if you thought I was worthy enough, you wouldn't leave and certainly not like this. I don't even exist to you. You want to forget this ever happened…'

'I have to…' Snape said, grabbing his heavy woolen coat. 'It's for the best.'

Esmé looked up at him, failing to hide the hurt she was feeling deep inside. She didn't even know him, and yet she had felt _something_ as they spent hours talking through the night. Now she was feeling undeniable rejection: he'd seen the trussed-up doll in the window, taken it down of its shelf and then put it back as though it tainted him. She supposed she ought to be grateful that he hadn't pushed her for a blow job before deciding she wasn't good enough. Too many of what had turned out to be the wrong men seemed to look at sex as a divine right for what little dubious attention was bestowed upon a woman. And as she and Ravenscroft had _literally_ only been sleeping together with their underwear on in the same bed – these were all firsts and very important ones, she supposed. Yet the feeling of rejection still remained.

'Well…' she swallowed. 'At least it kept you out of doors for the night…_again_…'

She lay back down and turned away from him, pulling the covers up and curling into a ball as though to keep warm. The room was a bit chilly…it was a convenient enough truth should an excuse be needed. He seemed to be a man who noted and ranked every gesture as much as he measured every word and inflection.

'What do you want from me!' Snape demanded.

'Nothing more than you are willing to give…'

'_Liar!'_

'You're right about that. I have this very bad habit of denial. I'm no better than Chris sometimes…'

'I am NOT D'Arcy!' Snape shouted angrily.

_Heavy thumps sounded from above them and Esmé paused before answering._

'No – you most certainly are not…'

'And what is that supposed to mean!'

'Nothing more than it does.'

There was a tense silence between them. Snape willed himself to find something to be angry about which would vindicate his behaviour as much as it would his attitude, but found there was nothing.

'I have never been one to yield to temptation! Never!'

'**_LIAR! _**You followed me… ignoring everything I said! It **was _you_ who followed _me_**!'

Snape could say nothing as an angry pounding sounded on the wall that the bed rested against.

'_Will you SHUT UP!' a man's muffled voice called out. 'Some of us would like to get some sleep!'_

'You made your decision the moment you got on that bus!' Esmé continued in a low voice. 'And now, something holds you back. And I don't think it has as much to do with whatever it is you are running from in Britain – as it does with you yourself!'

'_If you walk out that door your just might regret it for the rest of your sorry life,'_ came a voice Snape hadn't bothered to acknowledge in years.

He'd never been one for such foolishness, but there it was. After all this time, struggling to survive and battling for the right just to live – he **had **still dared _anyone_ to touch him. And yet this woman did, however inexplicably. His fate was sealed the moment she took his side against D'Arcy and her sister. His curiosity had gotten the best of him; he hadn't entirely meant for this to happen and it frustrated him to no end.

Maybe Esmé touched him just a bit – and perhaps because he wanted her to. He needed something even in his new life besides the tedium of work. He was going to get hurt in the end for this foolishness. _He always got hurt_. Lily had set a precedent in this regard. He had never known it was possible to love the way he had loved her or that it was possible to hurt – and hurt so much for so long; for too long.

But every time he allowed himself to sate his physical needs thereafter, he _had_ been chasing some vague hope that he could find that bliss again – find it and perhaps even eclipse it, banishing the influence of the hurt and pain forever. He thought he had found it, and in the most unexpected of places. Instead of happiness, it had very nearly destroyed him.

_xxxxxxxxxx_

_It had been some time since he'd been summoned by the Dark Lord. He'd taken to indulging himself a bit, such as it was. And if he were honest with himself, it went beyond a simple need; it **was** because of a particular someone. _

_Narcissa. _

_She always respected his opinion and honored his counsel after soliciting his guidance; she always took his side against her lunatic of a sister and the others that spoke against him in the Death Eater ranks; she took to calling on him at his home, just to talk she had said at first (after all he did insist on looking after her and Draco once Lucius was locked away in Azkaban) – and over time their affair began. As with Lucius before him, he was slowly drawn into Narcissa's ever-expanding web of seduction. He should have known better._

_But what he wanted was never to be; he found out just how much he had been deceiving himself when he lost control and professed a peculiar developing sentiment in the heat of their 'In flagrante delicto'._

'_Don't be a fool,' Narcissa had snapped just after he'd climaxed deep inside her. 'I will never leave him for you! We both used each other, Severus – Slytherin to the end!'_

_It was to be the last time they were intimate. They'd fought, oh how they'd fought immediately after! She'd pushed him off her as if he were some sort of contaminant and couldn't make her escape quickly enough. He didn't want to believe it, even though his instincts were telling him to walk away and forget it had even happened. She certainly had, in the end._

_Several weeks later, thinking that all that had been needed was simply enough time for their decidedly hot tempers to cool down, he decided it was time to resolve their conflict. They had said a lot of things they didn't possibly mean in the heat of the moment, he had thought, and in her haste to remove herself from his premises Narcissa seemed to have forgotten the set of keys she'd given him to Malfoy Manor. _

_Snape ignored the plea to leave from the old house-elf that came flying at him when he stepped into the grand foyer. He went upstairs and found her with the Dark Lord's new favourite in the heat of their own 'In flagrante delicto'._

_Even Snape hadn't had such an honour as to fuck Lucius' wife in their marital bed. It was too ironic that he'd never presented her with a set of keys to Spinner's End… His passion, his affection, his willingness to do whatever it took to save her (and, by default, her son) died in that moment._

_In the aftermath, his defenses had multiplied and the devastation influenced him such that he destroyed even the faintest hint of possibility so that he would never be so affected ever again. He had cried, broken down and at one point damn near had a nervous breakdown after the truth was laid bare to him. It was so unlike the stereotypical cold, unemotional personage that he presented to the world at large. Something deep inside was obliterated yet again; and his disposition became so unusually taciturn and withdrawn that Dumbledore feared he might actually harm himself. For the first time in all the years since he'd come to know him, Snape had seen fear in Dumbledore's eyes as the aged wizard tried desperately to keep his Potions Master sane – yet again..._

_The Headmaster called on him in his quarters at Hogwarts, an extremely rare occurrence. Over the next two years it became a Sunday afternoon ritual. The Headmaster was not his father, but had Snape been able to do a bit of foolish wand-waving Dumbledore was exactly the sort of man he would have wished for a kind of 'Pater Familias'. _

_Snape would say very little during these sessions. He admitted nothing and acknowledged just as much. However, what he would do was listen. And for Dumbledore, his willingness to listen spoke more than any platitudes or invectives that could have come from his lips. _

'_If you **truly** want love and to be loved truly,' The aged wizard had intoned one rainy day over steaming cups of tea, 'then do not pursue it where it is to least likely be found, Severus. Do not deceive yourself any further in this regard and do not use this war as an excuse to avoid it. You do yourself a great disservice. Where there is the will, the way can always be found. Love may very well save you in a way that your Slytherin sensibilities cannot.''_

_The Headmaster was grateful to be the one guiding, influencing force in Snape's life. He was convinced that love, true love, could make a difference, but only if his Potions Master allowed it to. However he was no fool: it would take something extraordinary for that to happen._

_And Dumbledore had remained steadfast in this belief and in his Potions Master even in that last fateful encounter at the top of the Astronomy Tower. _

_If Snape was unsure of anything else, he at least most definitely knew that though it was of little comfort to him._

_xxxxxxxxxx_

Snape felt his insides gather into a knot. Every cell in his body screamed for him to flee as quickly as he could and put as much distance between himself and Esmé as possible. It **was** time he left anyway. Christiane might not bother with the morning's work, but no doubt she expected him to get on with it all. If he caught the first early morning service, he could make it back in enough time and she would be none the wiser.

'I should be going,' he said coldly. 'Your sister won't be best pleased if she finds the morning's work has not been done and that the reason is because I am not where I should be…'

Esmé looked at him momentarily and then out the one window of the room. It was pitch black outside, but already St. Helier was coming to life: Market traders and grocers from all over the island were starting their descent on the docks for their deliveries; the bakers were already at work preparing for the morning trade; commuters to mainland Britain and France were starting to get ready for work.

'Yes, you certainly do have responsibilities,' she sighed. 'And you have a lot to learn about my sister and the man who really runs the show for the two of you. He's controlling you as much as he is her if you think you can't spend a night away from making him even richer than he already is. You aren't working for yourself or even my sister: you are working for Guillaume D'Arcy and I guarantee you he will not let you forget it no matter how fair a Master or Landlord he is. God help you both if he loses interest in her…'

Esmé didn't realise it; but she had just touched a critical core of Snape's psyche. _Control_; it was something he was loathe to relinquish. To _be_ controlled by anything or anyone other than himself was nothing less than despicable to him. He had been controlled and, if he were completely honest, influenced by too many of the wrong people for the wrong reasons for most of his life: his Muggle father, the Dark Lord, Lucius, Narcissa and Bellatrix. And then there were the Marauders…

Could he ever truly be free? Free to live or die or love just like anyone else who was not a Death Eater, was not a wizard? Could he ever simply _BE_ as even the most benign of Muggles is free to? From what little he knew of her, Esmé _was_ certainly free; free to come and go as she chose, free to create her tapestries or not, free to pursue this ludicrousness with performing despite her claims to have no vested interest in doing so – how he envied her!

But Snape didn't answer as he started taking off his clothes again.

'I thought you had somewhere to be…' Esmé said quietly.

'My common sense has prevailed; it is far preferable to remain indoors given that the buses are not likely to be running just yet.'

'That wasn't stopping you before! So what's changed!' Esmé demanded.

'Do you want me to go?'

'Far be it from me to send you to your death in the freezing cold. The floor is all yours.'

Once again, Esmé turned her back to him.

'_Why are you being like this!'_ Snape demanded.

There was no answer, so he sat down and reached across the bed, turning her to face him.

'Why are you being like this?' he asked, this time more calmly.

'It doesn't really matter; it's not important. Do what you want; I don't care…'

'Liar,' Snape said gently. 'If you didn't care, you would have let me walk out that door as I intended to. You have put a great deal of effort into keeping me here.'

'If you remain here – let it be because you really want to be and not because I had to talk you into it. I don't need it, Sebastian, and neither do you. And let's be completely honest, shall we? _I couldn't keep you here if you really didn't want to be_!'

Snape didn't answer and got back into bed – again with his underwear on.

'I don't want you in my bed just for the sake of keeping warm,' Esmé said tightly.

'I know you don't and I am not here for that reason. We both know that some couples meet and manage to form a strong bond on the basis of a seeming instantaneous attraction; but I have my reasons for not being entirely as indulgent as I could be. Any relationship worth having takes time. Perhaps we put the cart before the house; but there is no reason not to try if that is what we both want after this debacle of a start.'

'So you admit that you were considering it?'

'What does it achieve to hear me admit that I wanted to make love to you?'

'_Ahh_; you wanted to fuck me, you mean…you wanted to take it and then run.'

'Don't be so crass – it doesn't suit you. Be that as it may, now is not the time to be having this discussion – we both could do with a bit more sleep…'

Snape found himself admitting a cold truth only to himself – and it made him feel uneasy. He had leapt off the precipice into the dreaded unknown.

And it scared him.

For the first time, in a long time, Severus Snape was feeling quite afraid indeed as lay beside the young woman who was turning his life in exile upside down because he was allowing her to.

**xxxOOOxxx**

_The footfalls mockingly mirrored her own as she tried to outrun them._

_Red walls. As far as the eye could see, there was only a never-ending labyrinth of red walls. She ran – and ran – and ran… _

_A figure stepped out in front of her._

'_And where do you think you're going?' the dark figure hissed at her._

_She stopped suddenly, and cried out from the pain of her ankle turning sharply. She whirled quickly as though to run from the direction in which she'd come and found that the walls had closed and sealed against her._

_He stepped forward and pushed her against the wall – hard. She pushed him back and then recoiled from the shock of the punch that set her reeling. His eyes – something had clearly taken over him and he was nothing less than mad, filled with a danger that turned him on and made her fear for her life._

'_S'il vous plait…' she whispered tearfully. 'Laissez-moi partir…'_

'_You think you're too good for me, hmm? Just like the rest of them…!'_

'_S'il vous plait…' _

_He withdrew his classic 18-inch _**_AB Coltellerie _**_Stiletto and admired the sight of the unsheathed dagger glinting malevolently as it caught some of the red light. He thrust himself hard against her and drew the blade back and forth across her face…_

'_I am not going to tell you again. Shut. Up!'_

_She began to cry even harder as he cut the ties of her cape…_

_She closed her eyes as blade played over the curves of her body and she felt the hotness of his rancid breath on a cheek._

'_Does he pay for your fancy clothes? Hmm?' he said hoarsely. 'I never thought I would like this; it's fascinating that I do…!'_

'_Non! Laissez-moi partir… Laissez-moi partir… Let me go, please let me go!'_

'_No… You are mine now; my reward…'_

'_Laissez-moi partir… Let me go, please let me go!'_

Esmé woke hard from her nightmare; she was sweating and shaking all over as tears streamed down her face as she begged an unknown someone to please let her go.

'Non!' she whispered as she looked around frantically and tried to catch her breath. A warm hand reached out to her and she flinched when it connected with her flesh.

'Esmé,' Snape whispered as he pushed her damp hair off her face. 'It's alright…I'm still here Love. No one can hurt you… '

The young woman turned to him blindly and let him envelope her in a tight embrace as she cried herself back asleep, having never fully woken up.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Never one to be bothered with emotions let alone emotional women, Snape found himself quite shell-shocked by the simple action of holding Esmé in a comforting embrace. That nightmare of Esmé's… in that one irrational moment all he wanted to do was protect her from the bogeyman that tormented her in her dreams. Where he able to use magic undetected, he would have. Snape moved her hair back from her face. Women didn't usually give someone like him the time of day unless he paid for their services or they were a certain type of follower of the Dark Lord – the kind who wanted rank and power. Narcissa had certainly achieved through him what had never been possible with her own husband.

But as quickly as devil on his shoulder gave him a solid ticking off for not leaving Esmé, he'd find himself looking at her again as she slept in his arms and then hold her tighter. He thought about what he's felt from her – acceptance, desire and an unspoken need (though she certainly wasn't needy in the manner he tended to despise). He'd rarely stayed the whole night with a woman and most certainly not like this. Narcissa had been the one exception, and only on the odd occasion when she stayed over at his former home.

Snape didn't trust this situation with Esmé; he didn't trust it because he couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand it because he'd never really had someone special in his life seemed to like him, and who simply wanted to be with him from the word 'go'. He had absolutely nothing to recommend himself to her. He was the one no one usually bothered with unless there was something he could do for them. His were the feelings that were never returned. Everything about him had always been fodder for the bullying, disregard and hatefulness of others. He'd rarely had any encouragement to be other than what he'd turned out to be and his life experiences had simply reinforced this belief.

There had been only two exceptions: Albus Dumbledore and his mother.

But he'd offered everything he was and all that he wanted to be to Lily. And she'd thrown it back in his face – until that night; that fateful night when her son was just over a year old…

He and Esmé didn't even know each other… well he certainly had more of a measure of her than she did of him at the moment. Snape wanted something to make up for everything that he'd been put through – he wanted what he'd never had in the whole of his miserable life. He wanted to be truly _wanted_ and he did want love – even if he didn't particularly deserve it.

Without thinking about it, Snape began to stroke his way down Esmé's body, savouring every curve, every inch of warmth. Esmé's mouth sought his sleepily as she gave into his caresses.

'Make love to me, Sebastian,' she murmured. 'I want you to…'

Their bodies entwined and they began to devour each other hungrily as the sun began its ascent over the horizon and the traffic trawled steadily beneath their window. Snape's breathing was laboured as he pushed Esmé onto her back and then thrust hard deep inside her. Now fully awake, she cried out and then wrapped her legs around his back. With each plunge into her wetness there was a cacophony of moans from each of them as the old mattress protested against their activity with a barrage of squeaking. Snape couldn't concentrate on her mouth and the pleasure of his arousal inside her at the same time as he began another round of savage thrusting, ignoring the incessant banging from the wall, ceiling and floor. Nothing was going to interfere with their pleasure.

'Je mort Je mort!!' she cried loudly as she looked up into his black eyes, ablaze with fire in the light of the rising sun. 'My God – I'm dying!'

'_YOU WILL DIE IF YOU DON'T SHUT THE FUCK UP!' some dim voice shouted._

Snape assaulted her mouth again and engaged her tongue in battle until he brought her to a screaming climax.

'**Goddamn it oh Merlin!'** he shouted as he finally exploded inside her through his own.

Had his eyes been open he would not failed to notice the look of surprise on Esmé's face; first surprise followed by delight…and then worriment.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape and Esmé lingered over their breakfast; to the casual observer they seemed little more than friends. However, the waitress and manageress at Le Café Rouge were nothing less than shocked. In all the time that Esmé had come over to perform with her friends or visit her sister, not once had there been any mention of a man. Everyone knew that she'd never indulged in all the casual sex that she certainly could have done. And yet here she was with a man – a man that no one could recall seeing before. He definitely wasn't local. But then neither was she. For all anyone knew, they'd met in France and he'd come over especially. But they'd had a late dinner and had been the last to leave just the night before, and now here they were again first thing in the morning.

Something was going on, definitely.

'I never thought she'd go for that type!' one of the waitresses sniggered.

'And which type is that?' asked the manageress, hoping she sounded innocent.

'_A bit of rough…'_

'It's always the ones like her who act like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths…'

'Maybe he's well-hung?'

'Typical, It's always the _fugly_ ones, eh?'

The two women looked at Snape and Esmé and then at each other, knowingly as they stifled their laughter. After another few minutes their curiosity faded and Esmé's private life was forgotten as the locals piled in on their way to work or the regulars with nothing better to do than have a leisurely breakfast. Gossiping was far more interesting when it concerned people that they knew of from around the island, and particularly one Guillaume D'Arcy.

**xxxOOOxxx**

'I better get going,' Snape said for about the tenth time since they'd taken their seats.

It was just going to be a quick coffee; then just a quick croissant; instead they'd lingered for just over an hour and were no close to leaving than when they'd finished the first of their hot drinks.

'Mmm hmm,' Esmé said leaning forward at the same time as he.

They fell into yet another comfortable silence after Snape summoned the waitress for their bill. He and Esmé still took their time finishing the remainder of their full French breakfasts.

'Your nightmare,' Snape said slowly. 'You were quite terrified.'

Esmé put down her mug of hot chocolate and stared into it.

'I was,' she said quietly. 'I've always had the most awful dreams… it's just silliness really.'

'It was anything but; do not try to convince me otherwise.'

'Are you sure I can't get you anything else?' their waitress asked as Esmé and Snape began taking out their money.

'Given that we are settling the bill, it is apparent that the answer to your question is _'no'_, Snape said coldly as he pushed Esmé's money back towards her and paid the bill himself.

'Suit yourself then,' the girl shrugged.

Snape and Esmé looked at each other and ignored the _'arsehole'_ comment that followed.

'Did something – happen – to bring on that dream?' Snape asked cautiously.

Esmé shook her faintly.

'No – Oh God no…never!'

'Come – walk with me to the station…' Snape said standing.

He helped her with her coat and then bundled himself into his. As the door closed behind them, he put an arm around her. He didn't need eyes in the back of his had to know what reaction_ that_ had elicited from interested parties inside.

'Is that for show again or because you want to?' Esmé asked as they began their walk, with Snape's arm still wrapped around her holding her close.

'Because you're letting me…'

'Is it because you _want_ to, Sebastian!'

Snape pulled her into a private mews that sheltered them from being observed once they could no longer be seen from the restaurant. Esmé looked at him hesitantly; she never had been any good with casual relationships – and yet somehow she couldn't help but to feel that this was insane. Still, it's not like they had a commitment or had made any promises to each other. In his mind she probably was just a one-night stand and because she'd made herself available. There was just something about him, an inexplicable something that drew her to him… she wanted him to like her; to really, really like her. They were going back and forth about everything between them and nothing had been settled.

But he'd followed her to St. Helier and she had done what she could to discourage him, hadn't she? He stayed with her in the end and both got what they had wanted, hadn't they?

'I won't tell you that I am not in the habit of casual affairs, because that would be a lie – and a most grievous one indeed,' Snape said firmly.

To Esmé it was as though he had read her mind – and was getting ready to head off into the proverbial sunset even though it wasn't yet mid-morning.

'However, I can tell you that such activity is not entirely the norm for myself; it was circumstance that dictated such behaviour rather than any proclivities I have,' he continued.

Esmé nodded, but found herself shrinking back from the intensity of his gaze.

'You'll miss your bus and with the roads such as they are…' she blurted.

'No – we will not part under a cloud of misunderstanding.'

'It's fine. I understand. We don't really know each other… and, and…'

'And we made love this morning because we wanted to…' Snape said moving her deeper into the shadows. 'And I pursued you…'

'Because you knew you could get me…because I put it all out there…'

'No – I knew nothing of the sort.'

'Then why…?'

'I might ask you why took me into your bed and then let me behave that way towards you given that it is not in your nature to indulge your desires without evaluating a potential suitor carefully.'

'I don't have a simple answer to that.'

'I am no different. However, I know _what_ I am and the life I've led – and_ that _is what concerns me. Do not mistake your sister's risk-taking with me to be a glowing endorsement of my character. She does not know me any more than you do after all this time; and D'Arcy certainly doesn't!'

'Look – I'm a grown woman,' Esmé said, steering them out of their hide-a-way and towards the bus station once more. 'You don't have to place nice or let me down gently, although I guess it says something that you are at least willing to be civilized about it. I've been around this block before. We part as friends and then never darken each other's doorsteps again. I won't say a word to my sister or your boss and you can just carry on like nothing ever happened on the rare occasion that I come to see her – that is if you decide to stop running and give your new life here a chance.'

'I did consider doing just that. But I do want to allow myself to have a new life,' he continued. 'That _is_ what I came here for. And I suppose that inclusive in that new life is any number of things previously denied to me; along with things I denied myself.'

'_Allow yourself?'_

'I am **not** one for recklessness, Esmé! Nor am I the sort that sets store in the hearts and flowers your sex attaches to intimate relationships,' Snape said as they rounded a corner. 'You will have a fuller understanding in time…'

'I will?' she whispered, stopping him near the entrance to the station.

There were numerous people out and about. And Snape was not the sort for protracted goodbyes any more than he was uncontrolled romanticism. He had pursued Esmé because of the faintest hint of promise he perceived in her acceptance of him, and particularly in her defense of him against D'Arcy and her sister. He wanted to put the days well behind him when he had to pay for some semblance of companionship or indulge in tedious shagging with Death Eater trash.

'I am not an easy man as you no doubt have ascertained given your intelligence. And I can assure you, yet again, that if my interest in you were merely carnal, we would not have had this conversation let alone come to this agreement.'

Before Esmé could reply they had reached the ticket hall. She stood to one side as Snape purchased his ticket. She wanted to ask him any number of questions about what he evidently saw in her and about their so-called 'agreement'; but given what they had already said to each other, there were no easy answers for either of them.

Perhaps it was little more than planets aligning at the right time to bring them both together.

'Over there,' said Snape as he gestured towards the gate where the bus was already waiting.

They walked briskly to the waiting area where he was pleased to note that there were not too many people about. He needed to gather his thoughts and think about what his next move would be. Mercifully, the ride home should be relatively quiet. Home; it wasn't home. But where home would truly be in time he could not know.

Before either could speak, the bus door opened and the few passengers began to scramble for seats.

'Stay safe…' Esmé muttered as she turned to leave him.

'Stay safe…?' Snape snapped through a scowl. 'Is that the best that you have to offer me?'

'What? I…erm…'

'I have never been one for public displays of affection, Miss Barthélémy,' Snape sniffed.

'But I am not wholly adverse to romantic entreaties from _you_ if you care to give them.'

'Oh I have your permission do I?' Esmé huffed exasperatedly.

Then she noticed that he was smiling faintly at her. To anyone else it looked like a grimace, but Esmé could see he was definitely trying to at least smile. He truly didn't know how to handle this any better than she did.

Snape looked around and then leaned in close. 'Tonight…?' he whispered.

'Oui,' Esmé said as she leaned in and gave him a fast kiss on the lips. She started to pull away and he pulled her back for a kiss of his own. One not quite so fast, one filled with promise.

'You just broke your own rule, I think,' she muttered as one of his hands stroked her hair while the other cupped her face.

'Not the first time with you and I doubt it will be the last between us,' he murmured before kissing her on the forehead and looking at her as though to memorise every feature.

'There will be more…?' Esmé asked hesitantly. 'You won't change your mind and run again?'

Snape paused before giving his answer. 'I can't make you any promises, nor should you make any to me. I can only say that there is no one else but you and I do expect the same in return for as long as we are involved, Esmé.'

'LAST CALL!' the bus driver shouted before reading his list of stops one last time.

Esmé didn't quite know what to make of Sebastian Ravenscroft, but she was definitely looking forward to finding out what she could. She watched him leave her after one final lingering kiss and board the coach bus. She was unable see much in its dark tinted windows and yet could feel him watching her intensely, and somehow that went a long way towards reassuring her of his interest for the moment. It was interest, but not love – and she'd do well to remember that above all else.

As the coach pulled away Snape watched Esmé ambling through the snow back to the B&B, clearly lost in thought about everything that had happened between them. And now he wondered what she would think if she knew the truth of the man she'd let shag her so mercilessly. She seemed to look worried – understandable given the situation. He was a stranger that no one knew anything about. And for all she knew, this was just a fling. He lived in Jersey and she in Northern France.

Despite the initial outward appearance of confidence, Esmé's mask had fallen away and he could see that she wanted him to like her, and for more than what was between her legs. He did like her, and he definitely wanted to get to know her better. They both wanted something more if it was possible despite their pretenses to the contrary.

As he leaned back and contemplated the picturesque countryside flying by, Snape came to the conclusion that he was ready to truly live, and he would cross what bridges he had to; come what may. He may be in exile, but there was no reason why he need be so alone.

He'd certainly dealt with far more dangerous situations and people than a relationship with Esmé Barthélémy.

**xxxOOOxxx**

'Oh for God's sake Moony, she's not worth it!' Sirius said heatedly later that day. 'She's not that great in bed surely!'

'There is more to a relationship than sex, Sirius. Perhaps one day you will find out for yourself,' Lupin said dejectedly as he cradled his face in his hands.

'Ahh, right. So you are going to convince me that after all these years with your right hand being your only comfort that you finally decided that having a girlfriend wasn't such a bad thing?'

'Forget I mentioned it. Forget you even knew about us…'

'Right – You're better off leaving Hermione to go…'

'_What?'_

'Oh…damn…'

'What are you talking about, Sirius? You know something! It's written all over your face!'

'I don't know anything, mate. Just overheard Ginny telling Harry that Hermione was going to try and get compassionate leave and take a break from her job; to travel or some such,' Sirius replied idly.

'But she can't get any more time off! That's all we've heard for the last month!'

'Things change, I guess…'

Lupin stood up fast and walked quickly to the hallway.

'For God's sake, you just got here Remus!'

'I…I have a few things to take care of…'

'Like going to the Ministry? Don't do it, mate. You'll only embarrass yourself. Just let her go – she's too young…'

'Oh – well funny you should say that – because she wasn't too young for you to have a go, now was she?'

'What? So she finally admitted that did she? _Nice_…'

'_You_ approached _her_ and she knocked you back, she told me!'

Sirius took a step back and laughed.

'Believe what you want, but it takes two to tango and I didn't use the Imperius on her!'

'Are you… _are you telling me that she_… and with _you_?'

'I didn't fuck her, no. She did knock me back – but conveniently decided to do it only after we were quite close to…'

Black gestured with his thumb and index finger to drive the point home.

'I don't believe it. I DON'T BELIEVE IT!'

'It was nothing; we just had one too many drinks trying to deal with what happened with Dumbledore and Snape that night. No one else was around; we started to talk and it just happened. It was a very difficult time and uh…well, what can I say? Things got a bit…hot… and you had called it off with her, remember? So technically you weren't even together then!'

'And where exactly did this happen?'

'Don't ask any more questions that you really don't want the answers to!'

'In the drawing room, the summer parlor…your _bedroom_?'

Seeing that he'd struck a nerve, Lupin stepped towards the one person he'd thought was truly his friend. But Sirius had only ever really been James best friend. Lupin and Pettigrew had only ever been tag-alongs.

'You were about to penetrate her and she conveniently decided to come to her senses only after…she…with you…!'

Lupin shook his head numbly at the images that flashed before his eyes.

'She certainly hedged her bets,' he continued. 'The one man any number of witches would sell their souls to the Muggle Devil himself for the promise of his affection and the cachet of the Black family fortune. What would your _dear_ departed mother think of you fucking a _Mudblood_ in her precious….!'

'You back off, you just back right off! People make mistakes and not one of us is perfect! Not even you no matter what mask you present to the world. Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth you're so goddamned self-righteous!' Sirius roared. 'You talk about her like she's some kind of whore! You pontificate about love and morality and decency when you're no better at it than the rest of us – especially you with so little experience! What have you ever truly done besides wanking and offering what little you have for the sake of a shag or getting blown, _St. Remus_? **_Ahhh struck a nerve did I_**? You must really think we are all stupid. You're a man! And you are a werewolf! Anyone with a library card can find out all about the impulses that you have to fight against! You can badmouth Hermione and me all you want to – but at least we are honest about who we are and what we've done!'

A vein pulsed dangerously at each of the werewolf's temples.

'I have only _ever_ _tried _to do the _right_ thing…' Lupin began.

'_She was willing to give up everything for you. The Ministry threatened her job over you and she was ready to quit. She had sent the letter and Dumbledore intercepted it. Even he knew that you and her was nothing more than a mistake!'_

'If…if that really happened – then it was because of the work he needed her to do for the Order…' Lupin intoned coldly.

'How do you do it, eh? How do you **_always_** manage to rewrite history so that it suits this image of yours hmm? You and Hermione only lasted as long as you did **_because_** she defied Dumbledore! And before you start, he cared about both of you – but he was a lot more realistic about what was really at work between you than either of you were willing to consider at the time.'

'And what should we have considered?'

'That Hermione's insecurities kept her from being with the one person in the world that really loved her and for all the right reasons; that it suited your ego and martyr complex to have someone as highly regarded as she is turn her back on everything she really wanted and sacrifice herself unnecessarily for one as low as you are!'

'Hah! No doubt he would have preferred to see her with a Death Eater before the likes of me. No different to Albus giving me a job…'

'He did give you a job, remember!'

'Only after what – 13 years? Snape certainly didn't have to wait that long!'

'Yeah well _Snape was a Death Eater_ – the only one who right there in the inner circle! All the bullshit you spin about Greyback and where has it gotten you? The werewolves know who sucks up to wizards and who doesn't, Moony! They know who tries to live with them and who refuses! All these years you never condescended to fraternise that much with your own kind. There were plenty of things you could do for yourself and there still are. You could have had a family – but no, it had to be nothing less than an honest-to-Merlin witch for you…and even then you had the nerve to be so on your high horse about who! Tonks loved you – but no, she wasn't _good enough_ for good old _St. Remus_! And _no werewolves need apply either; not going to get yourself dirty there_! Snape was useful and Dumbledore trusted him more than he should have! He was an old fool when it came to that Slytherin trash and all Hermione ever did was take his word as gospel just like most people did!'

'You don't know what you're talking about! You and Hermione…_Snape_…She'd rather go running around the country after him. Obviously she knows more than she wants anyone to believe and no surprise there!'

'Hah just like she did in her Third Year with you right? Funny you should mention Snape and her – he had you pegged right from the start when he found out about you two; he laid it right out for Hermione exactly what the real deal was. She was pissed off – really pissed off, but it was only because she knew he was telling the truth. For a moment I almost believed he actually gave a damn about the two of you…and not necessarily to get into her pants. But he wouldn't touch her for all the gold in Gringotts – he can't stand her!'

'She always cared a lot more about him and his opinions than anyone else…'

'Do me a favour – we both know that isn't true!'

'No – we both don't know! I certainly don't!'

'It doesn't matter; she'd never find him even if she was crazy enough to go looking for him. No way could he be alive…'

'This is Snape we are talking about! He's got more lives than Filch's cat!'

'Just let it go! Enough is enough! Leave me alone if all it's going to be is bitching about Hermione and that Greasy Git arsehole! Has it ever occurred to you that she just wants to get the hell away from you? You impaled yourself on your own sword just like the rest of us do from time to time – deal with it! You've got a lot more going for you right now than I'll ever have – not the least of which is you are free to be out _there_!' Sirius said angrily as he pointed outside. It was beginning to snow again; this year it would be a white Christmas. Yet another Christmas that he would see in locked behind closed doors.

'Yes – I most certainly am,' Lupin snapped as he grabbed his coat and ran out into the night.

He barged passed Tonks, nearly knocking her over and not saying a word. The young Auror glanced at his retreating back and then made her way into the house. She hung up her coat and deposited her rucksack at the foot of the stairs before heading down to the kitchen.

'It'll just be us tonight,' Sirius said as he entered the room behind her.

He took the mug out of her hands and gestured for her to sit while he prepared coffee for the two of them.

'Sure you wouldn't prefer to be by yourself?'

'You always make me smile, 'Dora. And I think we both could do with some cheer right now… Let me cook dinner for us…' Sirius replied, before kissing her gently on the cheek.

Tonks went bright pink – enough to match her hair.

'You're looking great… feeling better?' he asked cautiously.

'Definitely; better than I have in a long time.'

'Good…so am I…'

'Really?'

'Really. No regrets…not one.'

'I'm a big girl, Sirius; I don't expect promises you can't keep.'

'You're all I'll ever need – as long as _he's_ out of your system. It certainly seems that he is…'

'Oh I fell in love with the image and the act – then I came to my senses. Anyone who could be so heartless, even if it was to put me off, wasn't worth it…'

'Some would think I'm not worth it. I haven't exactly mastered the fine art of behaving myself or being responsible for my actions. I'm not a nice man either.'

'You haven't put a foot wrong since we've been together and you always were kind to me. I'm happy to take things one step at a time…it's all I can do, really.'

Sirius pulled her up from her chair and into a tight hug before kissing her passionately.

'I thought you'd never see anything worthwhile in me…' he murmured as she kissed his face.

His hands went up her sweater and then roamed over the warm flesh of her back. They gave into another heated French kiss as he leaned her back against the counter and thrust against her.

'I thought the same – I thought too many of the wrong things…and I'm sorry for that,' she murmured in his ear as she moved against him.

'So am I – but never you mind. It's all in the past now,' Sirius said pulling back. We'll have a great Christmas and an even better New Year.'

He kissed Tonks passionately again and held her close.

'I love you, 'Dora, and I'll do everything I can to make you happy. I just wish I had more freedom to take you out, show you the town – have nice holidays.'

Tonks touched his face and then smiled.

'I feel the same way – I'm just sorry we had to go through all this to realise it. And we will do all those things and more. Molly's happy for us – said she's glad we finally came to our senses.'

'Hah! Good old Molly, eh? So who else knows besides the Weasleys?' Sirius said as he gathered a pot and saucepan to make Spaghetti Bolognese.

'It's only Molly, Arthur and Ginny that know… and Hermione.'

'_Oh…?'_

'It's alright – we had an honest talk over lunch today. It took her by surprise, but as long as we are happy that's all that matters. She's a different woman now…'

'Now that she's come to her own senses, you mean?'

'Yes – she's finally giving Viktor Krum a chance. She'll be spending the holidays with him. Apparently he wants to make up for lost time.'

'Well I'll be damned; so she really didn't have a thing for Snape after all.'

'Mmm, we all had the wrong end of the stick there. She just thinks that Dumbledore won't be best pleased when recovers and finds out what's happened…'

'Talk about someone having more lives than a cat – I can appreciate her optimism but I can't see how Dumbledore will pull through. If the best doctors at St. Mungo's can't do anything for him after all this time…'

Tonks fell silent as she set out plates and cutlery for the two of them. As ever, she broke half the plates before she managed to get two on the table. She excused herself after repairing the damage and then went to take a hot bath. She needed time alone; time to think about her lunch with Hermione – and Ginny as it had transpired.

Hermione had some very definite ideas about Dumbledore's recovery, but had sworn her and Ginny to secrecy. They needn't have taken the vow when she put it to them, but did it all the same to assuage Hermione's worries.

The last thing anyone else would have wanted to hear was about Hermione's theory that Snape held the key to Dumbledore's recovery. Tonks was the only person other than Ginny, Mr. & Mrs. Weasley, Luna Lovegood and her father who didn't bitterly hate the man beyond all reason. Hermione had been quite right that her two friends could be counted on to be more objective than most in the Order. Ginny loved Harry with all her heart – but even she knew that he didn't always get the right end of the stick. Her brothers were no better and anything concerning Snape was not to be discussed.

The three of them had reached a definite understanding of sorts. Luna Lovegood's father was raising very interesting, yet dangerous points in the Quibbler. They had as much to fear from the Ministry of Magic as they did Voldemort in some respects and it had been much the same in the first war, if Mr. Lovegood was to be believed.

Snape had put his life on the line for the Order – and the situation with Dumbledore…well, none of it made any sense. Harry wasn't as much use as Hermione suspected he could be. If only there was some way to get him to open up about all that he'd experienced…

Mr. Weasley was of the opinion that Snape had been a useful diversion from the actual truth of the latest peculiar turns in the war. He fit a certain mold and it was too easy to exploit on _both _sides. Their former Potions Master was just a convenient scapegoat as far as too many of the right people were concerned as much as the wrong ones.

If they could find Snape, the Headmaster would definitely survive whatever it was that had happened to him. And once recovered, Dumbledore could clear up the mystery of what_ really _happened that night in the Astronomy tower and in the months leading up to it.

Each of them had been coming to the conclusion perhaps there was more to the situation with Snape being on the run than met the eye.

They needed to find him before someone else did.


	11. Say What?

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ **

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 011: Say What?**

'_Wotcher, Princess… Nine inches and as thick as a Butterbeer bottle – you lucky moo!'_

Hermione stepped back and took a long look at the woman who looked like a banker standing in front of her. The stranger was fashionably kitted out in a Saville Row suit, glasses and Jimmy Choos and was carrying a small briefcase.

'I'm sorry I ever said a word; that will teach me not to drink Firewhiskey… And I see you are picking up Ginny's bad habits with that language!' Hermione laughed. 'So what are you doing here?'

'Just thought we could have a catch-up before you go… I ran into a certain someone last night you-know-where,' Tonks said quietly, dropping her voice as she discreetly cast a spell that would make people think they were talking about gossip from _Heat_, a British Muggle celebrity magazine that Hermione devoured in secret. Well, as secret as it could be since Tonks, Ginny and Luna were well of much she really liked it, even though she publicly railed against it whenever she had lapses and was caught out. Tonks had picked up one from a newsstand on the way, knowing it would provide perfect cover.

Protecting her conversations was a matter of habit in public for the young Auror. Voldemort had spies everywhere in the wizarding world and Sirius thought it probably best to never drop one's guard. Foolish mistakes were less likely to happen that way. He needn't have reminded her of it before she left that morning; as an Auror she knew all too well how carelessness could be deadly.

'Oh – right,' Hermione sniffed. 'So, what did he say then?'

'I'm worried, Hermione. Sirius doesn't think it's anything but…'

Tonks relayed everything that Sirius had told her about his confrontation with Lupin.

'Remus is obsessed with Snape, and Snape and you and not in a good way,' she said emphatically. 'He and Sirius really had it out last night.'

'Oh for God's sake! There is nothing going on between me and Snape! I have told him about a hundred times now! If I had a thing for Snape do you think I'd be going to Bulgaria to see Viktor? And he was fighting with his good old friend about it?'

'Well the fact that you managed to get the time off has really pissed Remus off to no end and…'

'Ah – I gather he didn't mention that this time was actually already accounted for! It's the break we didn't have during the summer when he conveniently backed out! I lost all the money I put down on our holiday and I was lucky my boss let me claim back the days off since technically I should have taken them then. I didn't jump through any more hoops for Viktor than I had for Remus! If anything it was Remus I was killing myself over when I got the time off in the first place!'

Tonks let out an exasperated sigh as they took seats in the far corner of a café near Hermione's departure gate.

'Looks like something else he's conveniently kept to himself then!'

Hermione's eyes welled up with tears and she fought to get herself together so that they could order their meals. Once their waitress was gone, Tonks leaned in over and patted Hermione's hands.

'Nobody thinks badly of you Hermione, really they don't. If anything we're all relieved that you're finally getting it together. Ron's not happy about Viktor – but then you know what he's like… The one thing he should have done ages ago and still he won't…'

'I just don't need this from Remus, Tonks. I really don't… and there is no point to Ron telling me about the pash he's had on me since school. I don't like him like that and I don't want someone that has problems with their feelings – there enough of that just with me!'

'If it makes you feel any better, I'm not in Lupin's good graces either. To be perfectly honest… I wouldn't be surprised if he jacks it all in. He's fallen out with me, you, Sirius… Even Molly had a go at him about how he treated me and lord knows she's been at his throat over this obsession of his about you and Snape…'

'I just want us to do the right thing! I know what things seem like right now…'

The waitress re-appeared with their sandwich and dessert orders and eyeballed Tonk's _Heat _magazine beadily.

'I'm quite done with it anyway,' she said handing it over. Anything to get rid of the girl. 'Merry Christmas!'

Another pointless anecdote about Brad Pitt and the finally girl left them alone.

'I don't like him, Hermione. You know I don't. But I do agree with you and…'

Tonks let out a sigh.

'You've found out something?'

'Yes – something rather disturbing actually… My aunt Narcissa is not only cosying up to Mum; she's also getting super tight with the Minister of Magic. I managed to find out that she's paying him a little visit this afternoon.'

'Ahh – hence the City of London look then…'

'Emilina Vargas – she works for the information service; part of the Minister's office… She's – _indisposed _at the moment... But she'll come to with a few carefully planted memories and that's that. No harm done.'

'Can you really do that?'

'One of the perks of the job for we Metamorphmagi Aurors. Technically, I'm in the Outer Hebrides today looking for our friend from Hogwarts,' Tonks replied with a grin.

'I had no idea that you could be so…'

'I did manage to pass all my exams and I'm certified...'

Tonks hesitated and poked at her toasted panini.

'You've been really honest with me Hermione, and about things that really aren't any of my business. It's time I returned the favour. You will be the only person besides Dumbledore and McGonagall that knows this…and I don't have to tell you that you can't discuss this with anyone – not even Harry and Ron.'

Hermione nodded slowly.

The clumsiness, not always seeming like the sharpest pencil in the box – it's an act. Carefully orchestrated and crafted by myself and Dumbledore. It was Dumbledore's idea and at first I didn't like it very much, but he's proven to be quite right over the years.'

The look on Hermione's face was priceless as she shook her head in disbelief.

'There is no way I would ever pretend to be less than I am… I couldn't bare it if people thought I was kind of thick and incapable!' she began before stopping herself short. 'Oh – I'm sorry. I didn't mean…!'

'No harm done – that's why Dumbledore came to me and not you while you were still at school. You have a strong ego when it comes to your intelligence, Hermione, and he knew you'd never go for it any more than you'd ever become an Auror. I grew up wanting to do this; and knowing that what I am can be very useful. Like I said – I want happy when Dumbledore proposed it, but in my line of work being known for being very smart can be more trouble than it's worth. I can do a lot simply because no one would ever suspect me even if they did get suspicious about something I've done for the Order. And I handled myself in the battle at the Ministry, remember?'

'This is all so bloody…'

'_Insane?_ Not really – there's a lot you just don't know, tucked away in the Research Office with your books and the rest of those dangerous minds.'

'Gee, thanks…'

'You're exactly where Dumbledore needs you to be. If it's one thing I've learned it's that the time will come when you realise why he's needed you to do it his way…'

'I know; believe me, I already know. That's why I have to believe that there is more to this situation with Snape than seems obvious at the moment…'

'I've been doing a lot of work recently – and all I can say for the moment is that I agree with you. Fortunately, we are going to get some extra help and about time too.'

'Help? From who? Tonks we can't take any risks with anyone who isn't brought in by Dumbledore or McGonagall!'

'Never fear, my dear. She's a Hogwarts graduate and McGonagall thinks very highly of her – she's the one whose bringing her in now. She's well acquainted with the Order and in fact has been doing work for Dumbledore for years.'

'_She?'_

'_Sasha Levesque_. I've learned a lot from her myself.'

'Sasha Levesque? She was Valedictorian when she passed out, wasn't she?'

'One the best and brightest that Hogwarts and the Ministry has ever had; although coming from Slytherin it did take a lot of people by surprise…' Tonks replied with a hefty snort. 'She's been working in the Department of Mysteries – _exactly where Dumbledore wanted her to be_…'

'God almighty…'

'No offense, Hermione, but you don't know half as much as you think you do – and you are safer that way. It's what Dumbledore wanted.'

'None taken,' came the reply with a frown.

Secretly Hermione was smarting. Sasha Levesque had been a few years ahead of the trio at school and Gryffindor's resident know-it-all had always been intimidated by her. Even when their paths crossed at the Ministry, Levesque regarded her no better than she would a common house fly. Hermione couldn't impress or intimidate her with her intelligence – and it bothered her immensely for some unknown reason.

'I don't see why we need to bring anyone else on board… What can she possibly do that isn't already being done?'

'It's about what she _can do_ and is willing to do that's important. If there was already someone who was capable then McGonagall would have spoken to them and not Sasha…'

'McGonagall doesn't know everything that any of us can do – unless she gives us the chance…'

Tonks sat back and looked at her friend guardedly.

"Dumbledore and McGonagall both knew what they were doing, Hermione. We all can't be good at everything – and we just don't have the time either. Anyway – It was McGonagall who suggested that I talk to you about all this. She thought it would help having someone nearer my own age who knew…and she wanted you to be prepared for Sasha.'

Tonks was turning out to be quite the dark horse indeed and for the first time in a long time, Hermione felt quite stupid.

'Don't be so fashed about being a shining star, Hermione. It really isn't that important,' Tonks said glancing at her watch. 'Look – I have to get going and I think they just called your flight. Just try to relax and enjoy your holidays, eh?'

Tonks drank the last of her orange juice and then stood after putting money on the table for their bill.

'All this crap with you-know-what would be the _last thing_ on my mind if I had nine glorious inches throbbing for me…'

'You think that's something you should try a…' Hermione said without thinking.

'_Hmmph_ – enjoy Bulgaria. Have a safe trip,' Tonks sniffed before striding off.

'_Werewolf_…' Hermione mumbled under her breath. 'Great Hermione, just great…'

She tried to hard to be just 'one of the girls' sometimes and inevitably put her foot in it. Tonks was the last person she wanted to have angry with her, but there was nothing she could do now. It would just have to wait until she got back.

Hermione gathered her things and made her way to the gate for her flight.

One on board she vowed to not think one iota about the Order or Snape or anything to do with what was happening back home while she was away. Tonks was right about one thing, the most important thing was to enjoy the man waiting for her at Bulgaria International Airport in Sofia.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Hermione couldn't believe how much easier it was to get through immigration and customs in Bulgaria compared to the UK. Then again, the British Isles seemed to be overwhelmed by this war. The rumours on the Ministry grapevine had it that the Muggle government would have to get heavily involved because of so many deaths and catastrophes happening to their own that on the face of it made no sense. Even the security measures to get out of the country had given her a massive headache.

She made her way to the waiting area where she had agreed to meet Viktor, lost in thought. Damn Remus and his obsessions and insecurities. She wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even Tonks – although she had felt insecure about the fact that Tonks had been madly in love with him. Tonks talked a good game about being over him, but there were times that Hermione wondered if she really had gotten over the strong feelings she had for the Order's resident werewolf. Hermione tried not to think about Lupin, but if she was honest she had at least liked the sex with him. He certainly proved that some of the more salacious myths about werewolves were indeed fact. But sex was one thing – and love was another.

'_So much for having a good time and no thoughts about all that rubbish,'_ she thought to herself.

There was no one that she could ever love the way she loved Viktor. And there could never be anyone who made her feel like Viktor did. Viktor had always said that it didn't matter what other people thought of them as a couple; what mattered was what they felt for and about each other. In their relationship he was definitely the one with emotional intelligence in abundance.

'God – how could I have been so bloody _stupid,_' she sighed out loud.

'I think God will forgive you for not being as perfect as you wish to be,' came a deep, soothing voice in heavily accented English.

Hermione looked up to find Viktor smiling down at her.

'So – what is this that you are feeling so insecure about, Princess?'

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and then shook her head.

'Nothing; I'm just being an idiot…'

'I agree – you have come all this way and it's been at least five minutes and still not even a hug from you.'

'Oh – Viktor; I'm sorry…'

Hermione started rattling off a mile-a-minute about how she didn't want to be worry about anything and just wanted to relax and then this spiraled into apologies that didn't stop until Viktor kissed her. He pulled her into his arms and explored her mouth hungrily as he held tightly to her. The fire that Hermione had been missing ignited itself between her legs – and in her soul. She wanted him to really understand how much she loved him and what he was for her.

They pulled away reluctantly and Viktor took the heaviest cases from her.

'I promise to shut up now…' she whispered, looking up at him with a longing that he was clearly relieved to see.

'We have plenty of time to talk. But for now the only thing I wish is for us to go home…and make up for lost time; if that is alright with you, yes?'

Viktor always asked and never assumed anything with her. He never took her for granted the way Remus had. Hermione silently admonished herself to stop comparing him with the werewolf as she nodded her agreement and they walked to his utility vehicle.

**xxxOOOxxx**

In no time at all they had driven around the outskirts of Sofia and into the mountains towards Dospei. Viktor's new house was in its own woodland situated near the banks of a lake outside of the village. Within a reasonable distance in any direction were popular ski resorts and several UNESCO World Heritage Landmarks.

As they emerged from a tunnel and made the turn-off towards Viktor's house, Hermione let out a deep sigh and clasped her hands. She looked at the scenery which was stunning enough in the dead of winter – goodness knows what it was like in the other seasons.

'Do you like it, Hermione?'

'Yes,' she answered breathlessly. 'Viktor it's beautiful!'

Viktor let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and directed Hermione's attention to the various sights along the way. There was plenty to see and do whether it was in the outdoors, the surrounding villages and resorts or in the capital.

'And over there,' he said pointing. 'Is the house…'

Hermione's eyes followed his large hand with its thick, long fingers and she let out a gasp.

'She is beautiful, no?'

'Yes – yes she is; and perfectly situated. I would be hard pressed to find anything like it myself back home…'

They did not speak again until Viktor pulled into the garage of the house. The house proved to be as spacious as it had looked nestled in the valley of hills from the mountains above. Hermione was given the grand tour and they took a walk partway around the frozen lake before coming back to the house.

It was the house of Hermione's dreams.

'The first time I saw her I thought of you,' Viktor said quietly as they enjoyed a bottle of wine in front of the fire in the large living space. 'Mother came to look at it with me and even she said that she thought you could be happy here…'

'You're really serious about all this, aren't you?'

'I have never not been serious with you. I want you to like it here. I want to make you happy, Hermione.'

Viktor turned to look at her in the firelight having drawn the curtains.

'I have prayed to God every night since you left me. And I ask him – What have I done that is so bad? What is it that in me that is so wrong? If she is meant to be mine then please bring her back to me. I will wait as long as it takes. And if she comes back please let her be happy so that she will not leave me again.'

Viktor looked away from her, and Hermione could tell he wanted to cry, but his fierce Bulgarian pride would not allow such a thing.

'I was always happy here,' she said tearfully as she put her arms around him and leaned against his back. 'I was just… I was just so insecure because I don't understand what you see in me… I've seen the girls who throw themselves at you and I know it doesn't make sense to anyone that you turn them down for me…'

Viktor turned to her, the anger and hurt blazing in his dark eyes. 'The people that know me; the people who really care about me – they don't care about things like this. My parents want me to be happy. They love you, Hermione, and my brothers and sisters like you enough. The people who are my friends – if they cannot accept you and be happy for me because I am happy, then these people are not true friends and I am better off without them!'

'I know…'

'You say that but you don't believe it. Not in here (he tapped gently over her heart) or here (where wizards believed the soul was). You say the words but you do not accept them inside. Even when I could have taken advantage of being apart from you there has never been anyone else. I don't understand what you feel about yourself or why it is like this, but to me you are beautiful. You are still as beautiful as when we first met and what I feel is even better.'

'But you fans… they say… they say the most awful, hateful things about me!'

Hermione burst into tears and Viktor pulled her into his arms.

'They are jealous, Hermione. And not one of them really knows me and they don't care to. For them I am a means to an end; I am how you say – a lifestyle. It would suit them to be seen with me but it would not be for love. Since we met, all I have ever wanted was to love you and take care of your properly,' he whispered. 'Please give me a chance to do that…'

His lips sought hers and Hermione moaned as his hands went beneath her sweater and across her back. Viktor kissed his way down her neck as he unbuttoned her sweater and then the shirt she had on beneath it. Hermione leaned back after he unhooked her bra and his mouth seized on a nipple. She couldn't take it anymore; she reached down and undid her skirt and his pants as he undid his shirt and took it off along with the pullover he had over it. In less than a few minutes she was stretched flat out on the carpet with him pounding hard deep inside, each begging the other not to stop as she met every thrust and pulled him in deeper.

Hermione clung to him through her climax and then his own. A few rogue tears streamed down her cheeks as she thought of how much pain she had caused them both – all because of her fears and insecurities – and because of Remus Lupin.

Viktor picked her up in arms and carried her to their bedroom as she cried. He had laid the truth flat out and neither of them had crumpled because of it. She'd never been this honest about herself with him. Though she felt incredibly exposed, both knew it was the right thing to have done. Viktor had always loved her – and his affection was not something she could lose easily, even if she felt she deserved to.

They made love again only this time it was slow and tender. It was like rediscovering each other all over again. Every now and again Viktor would look down at Hermione enjoying him only to find her looking up at him doing the same in kind. They smiled and there would be that soft laughter that only lovers could have. He stoked her hair and then kissed her again as he reached his climax deep inside her. Hermione cried out as she felt the warm, wet explosion that sent wave after wave of pleasure through her body. He made her feel so good and so safe… and she had almost thrown it all away…

They lay in each other's arms and talked a bit until Hermione fell asleep. Viktor looked down at her and couldn't remember a time when she looked so peaceful. He felt guilty knowing that he had brought her all this way and it wasn't just for the sake of a simple holiday and working through their problems.

He did have some things he needed to talk to her about; it was just finding the right moment that was going to be the problem.


	12. Hope There’s Someone

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ **

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

_**Note: Check out Antony & The Johnsons in your local record shops.**_

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 012: Hope There's Someone**

For the first time in a long time, Esmé was nervous about performing. It didn't take rocket science to figure out why, but it wasn't something she could discuss with her sister. God knows she loved Chris – but Chris wouldn't understand her getting involved like she was with Sebastian. Her sister had come into the little room that Esmé and the band used as a dressing area. She was all smiles and happy. Gill was going to come tonight and they were going to sit together. This was a very big step and she was confident that he was finally going to end his sham of a marriage.

Esmé hadn't said a word. There was no point. She had heard this so many times before and yet there was D'Arcy, still with his wife. There was a lot of gossip that strongly suggested the D'Arcys led separate lives – but separate lives didn't equal getting a divorce. Chris was so bright, so intelligent and it was insane that she was throwing her life away for someone who was not really hers to have.

But she couldn't tell her sister that. She just listened and was grateful when Didi, the percussionist for the band, came barging into the room. It gave Esmé the excuse she needed to get out of having to listen to any more of her sister's delusions.

She had wanted to ask if Sebastian was out there; but it would have caused more problems than it was worth right now. The rest of the band piled in the room and Fabrice, their bassist, handed her a toasted panini, crisps and a cold drink. Esmé found that she just didn't have the appetite for it. Her stomach was turn churning and doing somersaults and she had been running to the bathroom all evening.

'Hey don't look so stressed out! It's a full house out there – no room! They have already earned back the money they spent on us and then some,' Sergei the drummer said enthusiastically as he tapped Esmé on the shoulder. 'We've got a lot of regulars out there and they've brought friends!'

'The bartender can't keep up with the orders and the kitchen is going mad too. See – what did I tell you, eh?' came the booming voice of Fabrice from across the room. 'And nobody is being cheap. Sandrine doesn't know what to do with herself out there she's making so much money – should be a nice bit of extra for us this time!'

'Please – the only think you guys are thinking about is how much you are going to get laid…' Esmé grumbled.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

'Five more minutes – the natives are getting restless!' Sandrine shouted through the closed door.

'Woooo oooh! Now that is what I'm taking about!' shouted Philippe, the main keyboardist. He shared duties with Esmé and they also traded off on guitar. It was he who had convinced Esmé to come over with them in the first place in spite of her doubts. He looked very pleased that he'd been proven right.

The group gathered together in a prayer circle as was their tradition. It was an important ritual – they felt like the gig would be jinxed if they neglected it. But during it all Esmé could only think that she'd made a fool of herself and that she'd likely seen the last of Sebastian unless she turned up at her sister's place.

After a few minutes the guys quietly took their places on stage behind closed curtains and waited for the introduction. Esmé was pleading with herself to not be sick or lose control of her bowels and fortunately no one else noticed since the boys were too busy pulling faces and flipping signs at each other. She should be really happy for them, but more than anything, she just wanted to get back home to Bayeux.

She needed to forget Sebastian Ravenscroft and what he had stirred deep inside her.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Esmé took the stage in a heavy red cable-knit jumper and well-worn faded jeans with equally worn boots. Her non-descript look and manner clearly said "focus on the music, and not on me'.

As always, her eyes needed to adjust given the stage lights, despite this, she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. But it was everything that she could do to not collapse when she saw Sebastian Ravenscroft seated in the shadows in a recessed nook across the room from the stage. It was an almost unobstructed view, and yet was very private at the same time. It was an interesting contradiction, much like the man himself.

The band eased through several numbers as a collective and then Esmé was left on the stage alone. She took her place at the piano and tried not to stare at that fixed point at the back of the room.

"_Hope there's someone / Who'll take care of me / When I die, will I go /_

_Hope there's someone / Who'll set my heart free / Nice to hold, when I'm tired/_

_There's a ghost on the horizon / When I go, to bed /  
How can I fall asleep at night / How will I, rest my head /_

_Oh I'm scared of that middle place / Between light and nowhere /  
I don't want to be the one / Left in there, left in there /_

_There's a man on the horizon / Wish that I'd go to bed /  
If I fall to his feet tonight / Will allow, rest my head /_

_So here's hoping I will not drown / Or paralyze in light /  
And godsend I don't want to go / To the seal's watershed /_

_Hope there's someone / Who'll take care of me / When I die, Will I go /_

_Hope there's someone / Who'll set my heart free / Nice to hold, when I'm tired /"_

Christiane was seated across from D'Arcy and noticed his eyes straying from Esmé to a fixed point at the rear of the room.

_Ravenscroft._

Her assistant was by himself and taking in the scene in rapt concentration; no different to most in the room. Esmé always had that effect on people when she sang her own songs; a chill went up the spine and it was though time stopped and it was just her and you and the words and music. She didn't have to work at _it _– whatever _it_ was; Esmé had _it_ in abundance. She could do so much more with her talent; that much was obvious. But her sister was oblivious – and wanted a simple life. Esmé had been very insistent lately that she'd had one too many adventures and felt it was time to get off the rollercoaster of drama that seemed to have taken over.

And this was Ravenscroft's first time hearing her. She could only imagine how it made him feel – but there was no denying that her sister was making the stranger in their midst _feel_. Paying attention the lyrics, Chris finally understood what her sister had always tried to tell her about the love she wanted for herself – and for Chris. They both deserved so much more than they had ever allowed themselves to have and infinitely more than what their mother pressured them to settle for.

'She wants a simple life and love; but nothing is simple about him…' she thought to herself as she looked at Ravenscroft. She could only hope that Esmé was following her instincts and that Ravenscroft wasn't quite the big, bad wolf than he seemed to be given his situation. Her sister's heart always led her to the truth rather than detached analytics.

But god help them all if Esmé was wrong.

D'Arcy's eyes continued to flicker back and forth occasionally. Chris put it out of her head as everyone cheered her sister on through two more numbers by herself. Then the band came together for a few more songs and that was it for the first set.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Esmé let out a deep breath and then stepped down from the stage. She smiled and nodded her way through compliments and anecdotes about other performances from some of the patrons as she sipped a glass of water and attempted to make her way through the crowd. She accepted the bisous a few had for her and bantered happily with those whom she'd come to know during her visits. Chris managed to take her to the side for a chat and no less about what she perceived was happening between her and Sebastian, much to Esmé's annoyance.

And through it all she could feel the black eyes of Sebastian Ravenscroft taking it all in.

**xxxOOOxxx**

By the time Esmé made work of the people talking to her and the rest of the band it was time for them to go back on stage. She kicked off her boots and settled down with her guitar as the boys took their places. There were songs of long, star-crossed lovers, betrayed love, tainted love; songs wishing for love or begging for it. Everything in their repertoire was about love in some fashion. To be fair, the band wrote a lot of their own material and the songs they covered they all had to agree on – so it wasn't just her. However since she was the singer and they were torch songs, it felt far more personal than it really was. She poured so much of herself in her words and music that her observers felt as though they were reading her diary.

By the time it was all over, Esmé was ready to do something unforgivable to herself so that the pain of it would end.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Esmé tried not to let her eyes wander to her sister and D'Arcy as she walked over to the man who intimidated her more than anyone in the room. She waded through the crowd and shrugged away offers of drinks. She never was any good when she really liked someone and couldn't figure them out. It was hard to follow her instincts even thought she knew they were the right ones.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape stood up as Esmé made her way through the crowd. He had no reason to be nervous and yet for some unknown reason he was. His mind flashed back to a long-buried memory from his days as a Hogwarts student. As quickly as it struggled to surface he banished it.

He and Esmé met each other halfway and he guided her to the small table he'd secured. There was a bottle of wine and a small plate of canapés. Esmé also found a single long-stemmed red rose at her seat. She shouldn't care what anyone else thought and she wouldn't; but she knew what D'Arcy was like and what he had to be thinking about the once-homeless man that she was about to share a bed with for the second night in a row. Sebastian had more than surpassed her expectations and now she felt incredibly guilty.

'Mr. D'Arcy seems to take a keen interest in your affairs,' Snape observed as he stared at her in the light of the candles that now lit the room – and the single candle at their table.

'That's another story for another time…'

Snape looked at her guardedly and Esmé placed a hand on his.

"I will tell you – I just don't think this is the right place for that...'

'It sounds quite serious.'

'It was… and no – it wasn't D'Arcy, but someone very close to him. In fact, it was the man his wife should have married…'

'It sounds rather… incestuous.'

'An interesting analogy – and quite fitting.'

Snape took her hands in his.

'We won't speak of it now. I propose that we make the most of this evening and banish all talk of Mr. D'Arcy and your sister.'

'Agreed… Sebastian?'

'Yes?' Snape said softly as he marveled at how small and soft her hands were.

'I'm glad you came…'

'So am I...'

**xxxOOOxxx**

The staff were bringing out more chairs so that some of those standing could at least sit. Tables were pushed together and Snape pulled his and Esmé's further into the nook. When all was done her chair was next to his and they found themselves seated across from D'Arcy and her sister albeit with just enough space for some semblance of privacy. Some of the regulars who were musicians starting an impromptu jam session with some of the band and it was a welcome distraction so that they could spend some time together without being pulled into other people's conversations.

Esmé and Snape talked over several bottles of wine and a selection of breads, meats and cheeses as they were passed around. Chris noticed that her sister seemed relaxed, a lot more relaxed than she'd been earlier. And dare she say it – Esmé looked happy. Sebastian wasn't entirely usual taciturn self; there was something a bit different in his manner tonight. Having never seen him with another woman there was no way to gauge his behaviour, but she was pretty certain that the change she perceived had everything to do with her sister. It went a long way towards explaining why she had the feeling that he was just getting home when she became aware of him stomping through the snow to get to his house this morning. Chris should have already been up; but instead she was in bed…and with someone else's husband.

'I can understand what the attraction would be from his side; but I would not have imagined that he would be her type…' D'Arcy sniffed as he looked at the unlikely couple.

'If my sister can't see something worthwhile in anyone; it is because there is nothing worthwhile about them…' Chris answered defensively.

'You don't mean to tell me you approve of such a match? The man was nothing more than a beggar and none of us know anything about him.'

'Who am I to pass judgment on her anymore with the life I lead? And it was you that brought him into our little community with your random act of charity. Had you left well enough alone at the terminus he might not have ever crossed our paths.'

'I am no Sebastian Ravenscroft…'

'No – you certainly aren't. For a start he's not married and he also doesn't pretend to be anything other than who he is – he certainly is no hypocrite.'

'Christiane I do not want to argue with you, but...'

'Then change the subject to something other than my sister and the man who's helping me to repay my debts to you! I didn't think she'd ever get over what Michel put her through. Your good friend, remember? He treated her like shit – typical spoiled rich boy who thinks he's the Master of the Universe and above reproach. Butter wouldn't melt in his damn mouth!'

'I know Chris – and no one feels worse about what happened than I do!'

'Someone does, Gill: Esmé! She wouldn't have bothered with Michel if it wasn't for us! Me and my mother have caused no end of problems for her – always insisting that we know better than she does when we don't. Esmé sees people exactly for what they are, good and bad. She didn't want to get involved with Michel, but oh no; you wouldn't hear a bad word said about him and I wasn't going to contradict it. She and Sebastian are both adults and whatever they get up to is their business. If her instincts are telling her he's fine then I'm not going to contradict her. And at the end of the day – it's none of your business!'

D'Arcy reached over and placed his hands over hers.

'The only person I am concerned about is the woman I'm sitting with…'

'Right – you sure do have a funny way of showing it!'

'I'm getting my affairs in order – I'm leaving her. I'm leaving Lizzie and I intend to file for a legal separation so that the divorce will not turn into some long, drawn-out affair.'

Christiane looked at D'Arcy open-mouthed.

'Come – I think we should be somewhere a bit more private,' D'Arcy said firmly as he stood. 'But I do I love you. I always have and nothing can change that'.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Chris walked over to her sister and whispered in her ear before leaving. Esmé's only reply was a pointed look of resignation.

'Don't be like that Esmé, please... I've waited a long time for this,' Chris murmured as she tried to ignore Ravenscroft's glittering black eyes.

There was so much Esmé wanted to say to her sister; but the subject matter was really for her ears only. There was so much Sebastian didn't know; so much he needed to know and God only knew how she would find the strength to tell him. The checkered past of her love-life was nothing compared to the other secrets of her past nipping at her heels. And she would have to tell him that so that he would understand what had happened with D'Arcy and his friend.

'Goodbye, Chris,' she said out loud wearily. 'I'll see you tomorrow…'

Chris gave her two bisous as was their custom back home and then looked at Snape.

'The only thing I will ever ask is that you work hard to deserve her…' she sniffed.

There was no reply.

'I really hope D'Arcy can be everything you want him to be. I hope he will finally do what it takes to deserve everything that you've given him.'

Chris gave a slidght nod and then left with D'Arcy.

Esmé couldn't help the way she felt or what she knew to be true. But she couldn't help but to feel that the situation with D'Arcy was just… _doomed_.

**xxxOOOxxx**

'You were wonderful tonight,' Snape said quietly as they crunched through the snow to get to the motel that Esmé was now staying in. The B&B had asked her to leave due reports from other guests of disturbing the peace.

'You don't have pretend it was so great…'

'Accept the compliment Esmé; I speak as I find.''

Esmé stopped him in the middle of the lane and gave him a kiss on the cheek, turning bright red as she did it.

'I want a picture of you; and one of us together…' she said running over to a lit box a few feet in front of them.

'I make it a habit not to be photographed.'

'Please – just one… for me?' Esmé asked he reached her.

She placed her hands on the color of his coat and pulled him down for a kiss. His mouth parted hers and their tongues engaged in a passionate dance made them both go weak in the knees. Esmé disengaged herself and led him to the booth, closing the door behind them. Snape took off his coat as she arranged the stool and then gestured for him to sit. A few sullen-faced photographs later and then it was her turn.

'The camera is very kind to you,' Snape said as he pocketed the pictures.

Esmé had no idea since he'd snatched them up and put them in his wallet without her getting a chance to see them.

Snape put his hand on the door handle and the young woman pulled him back.

'Please?' She asked sweetly as she stood and pushed him on the stool. 'Just one set of us together?'

'It's freezing in here!' Snape complained weakly.

'Hmmm can't have you dying of frostbite, now can we?' Esmé smirked as she sat on his lap and wiggled as she leaned back.

There was a FLASH as Snape ran his hands under her sweater. Another FLASH as they began to kiss again. The final FLASH in the series of photos they ended up having was of the two of them looking contented in a way that only intimates can in the afterglow of lovemaking.

They gathered themselves together and in ten minutes later were settling into her motel room. Snape had a shower and forbade himself to think of anything beyond the 'here and now'. However, try as he might, his mind did wander to the woman waiting for him in bed. He'd never doubted that he would come to see her tonight, just as he also didn't deny that they were going to be intimate. He wiped his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror; for the first time in a long time he looked… happy.

But how long could it last when they were about to be separated in a few days' time?

**xxxOOOxxx**

'Come stay with me in Bayeux,' Esmé murmured as Snape pulled her into his arms after withdrawing from her.

'I can't – I can't leave the island. I don't have identity papers..'

Esmé thought for a moment as she cradled his face in her hands.

'What if… what if something could be sorted out? Would you at least consider it then – coming back with us for the holidays?'

'Esmé it's impossible to…'

Snape was silenced by two fingers placed to his lips. He kissed them and then kissed Esmé again properly.

'If I sort it out… will you come?'

'A miracle such as that would be well worth considering; but there are circumstances that…'

Esmé silenced him again with a kiss and then hugged him tightly. He understood how she felt all too well. He thought of the songs that she sang on her own and how they had resonated within him, especially the first one.

'Yes,' he said softly as he held her and stroked her hair. 'If you can manage it, I will come…'


	13. Illusions

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ **

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**WARNING: This chapter has sex – hot anal sex amongst other things to be precise… But you wont want to miss what follows…**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 013: Illusions**

Christiane was awakened by crunching and dragging noises from outside. She got up and went over to the bank of windows in her bedroom after glancing at her alarm clock. Once again, Ravenscroft was coming home later than she was. Except this time it was different. Esmé was with him and they had her suitcases and a large tote bag. It was also too early to have caught a bus. They must have hitched a ride. But it looked like Esmé was spending the rest of her time in Jersey with him, rather than at the lodgings that Le Café Rouge was paying for.

'What the hell…?' she sputtered as she looked at them in disbelief.

Christiane strained to hear their conversation, but it was impossible. She watched as Ravenscroft opened his front door and took Esmé's things inside. He returned for her sister and it seemed as though Esmé was about to say something, but Ravenscroft silenced her with a kiss. Esmé put her arms around him and they stood for a moment in a tight embrace. They looked tired, but content. Ravenscroft leaned down and touched her face – was he wiping something from it? He took Esmé by the hand and led her into the house.

'It's one o'clock in the morning…' Christiane sighed irritably.

'All the more reason for you to come back to bed,' D'Arcy muttered 'You'll catch your death…'

'Ravenscroft's finally come home…'

'Rather a bit quick this time for him, don't you think? He and your sister must have finally come to their senses…'

'For your information, Esmé's come with him – and with all her things. No more staying in town for her I guess since the band doesn't require her services any more.'

'Hmmph; even Michel had to wait (what was it?) – four months before she would even let him kiss her…'

'Please – I don't want us to argue again. Just leave them alone and try to be civilised,' Christiane snapped as she crawled back into bed.

'I don't want to argue either, Chris; really I don't…' D'Arcy said quickly.

Christiane had turned her back to him – always a sign that she was very upset.

'You say that,' he continued gently as he spooned into her, 'But you don't approve any more than I do, not really.'

'Nothing good will ever come of it!" Chris said hoarsely.

'Finally! No; it won't. I'm not going to be hateful towards them, but I am not going encourage it either. And neither should you! You need to make your sister see sense for a change!'

'She won't listen to me. I have tried to talk to her but she just won't hear it and I don't blame her. Here I am in bed with another woman's husband so who am I to talk? You haven't spent one night at home recently…'

'And you're complaining? Most women in your situation would be climbing the walls if their lover stayed away.

'Your "dear wife" has working overtime to get into your good graces all of a sudden. I've heard it for myself, Gill. She doesn't want you; but she doesn't want anyone else to get near you either.'

'Her little tricks are coming to an end. I have it on good authority that her fortunes are about to change considerably.'

'Oh?'

'Never you mind. You will see for yourself at the Christmas party before we leave.'

'Before we…? Gill what's going on?' Christiane asked as she turned to face him.

'The present Mrs. D'Arcy is about to get what she deserves; though on my terms and not hers.'

'I don't like the sound of this, Gill. This isn't like you.'

'It wasn't like me until I realised what a sham my marriage is. Lizzie has backed me into a wall and I have no choice but to push back. I want this farce to end – and it will come Wednesday night.'

Christiane looked worried and D'Arcy gave her a deep kiss.

'We will finally have our Christmas together, you and I. I'm coming home with you, Chris…'

D'Arcy forgot about how tired he really was as he rolled on top of the woman he really loved and began to make love to her. Chris was everything to him and he would stop at nothing now so that they could be together.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape and Esmé didn't speak to each other until they were behind closed doors. The young woman tucked herself up comfortably on the old battered sofa in the living space and watched quietly as Snape prepared a fire and then steaming mugs of hot chocolate for them both.

He looked at her face framed in the flickering golden light of the dancing flames of the fire. Esmé clearly had a great deal she was holding back on, but was loyal enough to her sister to not discuss it with him. Had it been one of the staff back in Hogwarts, he would have known more than he cared to by the time they'd reached his front door. But she was clearly worried; and anything that worried her was a concern for him.

'So – after all this time, this is where they finally end up – how ironic…' Esmé sighed as she leaned against Snape once he sat down. 'Well – I hope you like them at least'

The former Potions Master pulled the heavy throw around them that had been on the back of the sofa.

'I didn't realise these tapestries were crafted by your hands,' he said looking up at the largest of the two he'd been given which was hanging over the fireplace.

'I gave them to Christiane for her place, but she doesn't like them. I knew they were going to end packed away collecting dust. But I gave them to her anyway – hoping she would change her mind. She doesn't want to be reminded of what she's given up.'

'She says she misses home…'

'Does she really? In all the years since she's met him, she's only been home a few times. And the last time she didn't last more than a day before she left and came back here. D'Arcy took her away for a night of passion God-knows-where. So take anything she says about home with a grain of salt.'

'It must have taken you quite a long time; it's quite intricate,' he said drawing her close and wrapping his long arms around her.

It was a detailed landscape, depicting the perfect autumnal day in Normandy. It was like a woven painting – and as such deserved to be in a far more complementary environment, he thought to himself. Such elegant things were wasted on him, which was why he had been neither here nor there about it when Christiane hung them. But knowing that it had been Esmé who had crafted them, it made all the difference in the world though he supposed it shouldn't have.

'It took me several months of working ten to twelve hours a day; but I didn't mind. It was a labour of love to a degree and worth every minute of it. Once I had the idea for it and completed the mock-ups, I had to get going and couldn't stop until it was done. The day came when there were no more final touches, so I knew I could let go.'

'And you did both for your sister…?

Esmé peered around the room and frowned.

'My bedroom…' he said, answering her unspoken question.

'Ahh – quite fitting. The scene is of one of the most romantic beauty spots back home. Everyone makes such a fuss over the beaches, because of the D-Day landings; but Normandy is so much more than that. Jersey is lovely, but it does not compare to France. And it certainly has nothing on us when it comes to our traditional arts.'

'Filled with typical Gallic pride, Miss Barthèlèmy,' Snape said as he began to rub her back.

'Sebastian. I know how you ended up here; and I think it's fair to say that life hasn't been too kind to you. Do you think you can be reasonably happy working on a farm – and for D'Arcy of all people?'

'It's an honest living.'

'Mmm, that it is. I've some acreage myself. Now that this singing lark has ended with the boys I can get down to being what they call boring and sorting it out. It's great what you've done for Chris; but this really isn't…_her_…as such. The country life really isn't her.'

'And what is?'

Esmé smiled ruefully.

'It certainly isn't what she thinks it is, or wants to believe…'

'She has only indicated that the mundane worlds of nine-to-five and sales doesn't suit her.'

'Ahh, well that's true enough. Maman has a lot to answer for; her motto is that you can love a rich man just as easily as a poor one. Of all us children, my sister has always especially taken that to heart.'

'Your mother makes an interesting and quite valid point,' Snape said evenly as his black eyes bored into his Esmé's brown ones.

'There are plenty of things more important than money. Money helps – don't get me wrong. But two people together can achieve a lot if both of them want it. Money in and of itself shouldn't be the criteria for a relationship. Take Mr. Hill, D'Arcy's valet, for instance. He's actually high up in the pecking order socially – his family are true Bluebloods. He married for love, not money. And it's a good match on both sides. He has never regretted "marrying down", quote unquote and he can tell you himself.'

'Wealth is a powerful aphrodisiac for many,' Snape said firmly.

'For _some_ people – yes it is…'

'You are so noble such that it would not even tempt you? Where I am from, the family one is born into, one's background, is everything. Many marriages are little more than finely executed business arrangements. Many of the women of my former acquaintance care only about the wealth and power of a strategic marital alliance.'

'It's about time I told you about Michel Rèmy-Chopinard, the man that Elizabeth Bennett D'Arcy should have married,' Esmé said quietly as she stood.

She walked over to the fireplace and looked up at her tapestry. She'd done this one and the one in Sebastian's bedroom in the aftermath of a significant trauma – one of the biggest of her life so far. It was her craft that saved her from a permanent breakdown of sorts.

'I was in a relationship for a few years, with him. He and Guillaume are best friends. They grew up together, went to the same schools, and they are still very close. He's not unlike D'Arcy in some respects. The background; life of privilege and all that. I didn't like Michel from the moment I met him. I couldn't put my finger on it, exactly, but I knew that something wasn't right. But D'Arcy, Chris and my mother wouldn't hear a single word said against him at the time. Even now after everything I went through because of him, D'Arcy and my mother still make excuses for Michel.'

Esmé stopped for a moment and took a deep breath.

'I'm listening,' Snape said quietly as he held out his hands.

The young woman nodded faintly as she took them. She was shaking like a leaf and had put a bit of space between she and Snape when she sat down, but Snape wasn't having it. He pulled her into his arms and held her. That said more to Esmé than any amount of words ever could.

'My mother and Chris were really pushing me to be very… _friendly_, with him,' she said quietly. But I saw right through him the more I got to know him. Michel is another one who uses his wealth to influence and buy anything he sets his mind on. He has no heart, no real concept of love – when all was said and done the only person he ever gave a damn about was himself. Oh, he was charming, said all the right things and could get on with anyone. But I was no better than a prostitute to be paid for.

It all came to head when I was having problems with my health, really bad problems. I was scared I might be pregnant – and he didn't want to know unless I had an abortion. It turned out to be something quite serious, but not once was he there for me. Hehad begun seeing Lizzie D'Arcy again. They hadn't stopped seeing each other, not really, but it was a lot more serious this time. I found out later that hey were together the whole time I was in hospital.

Michel had his assistant send flowers and expensive gifts that I didn't give a damn about thinking that would keep me sweet. I gave it all away to other patients, which pissed him off to no end when he found out. D'Arcy has no idea what his best friend and his wife did back then – or what they are still doing. I found out for myself the day I signed myself out of the hospital.

I thought I was going to go home and then go to the pied à terre he has in Paris. Madame D'Arcy doesn't go to Paris to meet up her imaginary childhood friends for socialising and shopping; she goes to Michel. That was as true then as it is now. Anyway, I got home to the house Michel and I were living in. I walked in and heard them before I saw them with my own two eyes fucking each other's brains out in our bed. I confronted them both and neither of them batted an eyelash because they knew that no one would ever believe me. I won't bore you with the finer details what they both said. But I left our so-called relationship with exactly what I brought into it. I never took anything from him, not even when things were really bad financially for me.

I didn't say anything to anyone except to make it clear that Michel had cheated on me and that he'd been a habitual womaniser. My mother didn't talk to me for months; she still thinks that I'm the one at fault and that if I had satisfied Michel _"the way a woman is supposed to"_ and tried to live _"a more respectable life"_, then he would have been faithful.

D'Arcy's right about my knack for landing on my feet. You live by the sword, you die by the sword I guess; and I had no intention of being the architect of my own destruction, led around by the nose by someone who doesn't give a damn about me. Thanks to D'Arcy and his best friend I don't suffer any illusions about anything anymore. All the money in the world wouldn't influence me to tolerate an arse like Michel or that kind of situation ever again. Chris doesn't even want to know – I tried to tell her everything, but she doesn't want to know. She has to keep her fantasies about the perfect Monsieur D'Arcy intact… He's a man that's happy to fuck them both and yet claims to love only her… Something else I know – he has slept with his wife and it wasn't just some accident or a momentary lapse of reason. But I can't tell my sister that either.'

Esmé was on her back now and turned her head away from Snape, who was looking down at her intensely. He turned it back and then leaned down and gave her a delicate kiss on the forehead.

'He didn't deserve you – and you most certainly did not deserve what he did to you,' he said firmly. 'And your family – blood is most certainly not thicker than water.'

Snape brushed away Esmé's tears which had begun to fall uncontrollably.

'There hasn't been anyone else since him – nothing serious… until you…' she whispered.

If only she could crawl away and die so that the madness of her heart couldn't torment her anymore.

'This is very serious for me as well,' Snape said. 'It's been a long time since I've been with anyone.'

'Why?'

'For reasons not dissimilar to yours.'

The young woman looked up at him, the unanswered questions shining in her eyes.

'I… I cannot speak of it… not yet…' Snape said softly.

Esmé nodded, but Snape could see that she was uneasy.

'I'm not like them…' he began.

The young woman put two fingers on his lips.

'I know – that's why I fell so hard for you,' she whispered, pulling him on top of her as she lay down.

They began to kiss, slowly and tenderly, taking their time. Esmé's hands pushed up his long jumper and Snape eased himself up and took it off while Esmé began to undo his pants. She pulled them down and the former professor stepped out of them, revealing a ferocious erection that had been hidden from her. The young woman lifted up her arms and Snape pulled off her sweatshirt and then her heavy cord jeans and underwear.

Snape moved on top of her once more, raining kisses on her face, neck and down to her chest. He tongued an already engorged nipple and then seized it in his mouth, causing both of them to moan as he continued to lick and nibble. Esmé gave into the pleasure that was overloading her senses as Snape continued south. She was grateful she'd had a full wax because he didn't leave an inch untouched as he began to devour her hungrily. She'd never had a man pay so much attention to her pleasure the way he did.

She moaned his name, begging him not to stop. She got the shock of her life when his tongue went further south still and ficked back and forth over her other entrance.

'Oh Merde!' she gasped, not really wanting to believe how good it felt.

Snape chuckled at her unintentional pun.

'You most definitely do not taste of shit, mademoiselle…' he smirked before rubbing the head of his penis against that tightest of orifices.

He needed lubricant and there was only one way to get it without going upstairs and breaking the mood. The former professor plunged into Esmé's wetness hard and deep. They found their rhythm and he was pleased at how aroused she was. After a few minutes he withdrew and began to gently poke at her rear end.

'Just do it,' Esmé gasped as she felt the head of his penis penetrate her.

'Have you ever…?'

'Yes, sort of!' she gasped, as he thrust himself into her.

Her eyes began to water as Snape lifted her up by her hips and began to rock in and out with steady thrusts.

'Relax, my love. You are too tense, just let go...' Snape purred as his black eyes bore into hers.

It was hard for either to catch their breath as they gave in to their heated passion. Esmé began to meet his thrusts and together they found their rhythm as she pleasured herself with her fingers. The room came to life with his moaning and her wails. The former Potions Master was reaching his climax and began to pound faster. He held the base of his penis so he wouldn't come too soon. He started to feel faint and clutched at Esmé's legs which were slung up over his shoulders.

'Oh Jesus! Oh Merlin!' he rasped as he finally pulled out and let go.

When the last of his thundering shudders had died down he opened his eyes.

'Am I really your love?' Esmé croaked.

'You wouldn't be here if you weren't', Snape replied as he lay down next to her and took her in his arms.

Esmé nodded and looked into the fire.

'Good…'

The former Potions Master held her and within minutes Esmé was fast asleep.

**xxxOOOxxx**

When Esmé woke up it took a moment for her to get her bearings. She looked around the alcove and realised she was in bed, in Sebastian's bed. A cursory glance at the clock on his night table indicated she had another half hour or so to sleep.

So he had carried her up to bed. The young woman looked down at his dark head, resting comfortably just below her breasts. He was holding tight to her, as if to keep her from wandering off in the middle of the night.

'_We are quite a pair…' Esmé thought to herself._

She closed her eyes and let sleep take over once more.

**xxxOOOxxx**

'Esmé,' Snape said softly as he gave her a gentle shake. 'Come on love, it's time to wake up.'

'Whaa?'

'You were the one who insisted on getting up with me at this uncivilised hour.'

'Mmm. It's worth it though…' Esmé replied groggily.

Snape didn't reply as he turned on the light.

'I'll go make breakfast,' he murmured before giving her a kiss.

Esmé watched him bound down the stairs. She listened as he banged around, slamming doors as he rummaged through cupboards and the fridge.

She hurried through her shower, needing to stick to her schedule so that she could make it back by tomorrow night as planned.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Esmé came down just as Snape finished preparing a hot breakfast of porridge, omelette and eggs. He'd brewed strong black coffee for him and a pot of hot peppermint tea for her.

'Mmm; smells wonderful,' she sighed as she wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed his back.

They stayed together like that for a moment and then Snape turned around and held her tight.

'Breakfast will get cold…' he muttered as he reluctantly pulled away from her.

He dished out their food and sat down after she did.

They didn't speak as they ate their breakfast. Esmé could tell he was gearing up for a foul mood that had everything to do with her leaving for the day.

After a half hour she checked the time.

'I need to get going,' she said rising and taking her things to the sink. 'Let me wash these…'

'No… don't worry about it; I'll see to them later,' Snape replied. 'It will give me something to do…'

His voice tailed away as they put on their heavy coats and outerwear. He had already said too much. A few minutes later they were walking up the lane to the bus stop. The sun was nowhere near ready to rise and landscape looked as desolate as Snape felt.

They heard the coach in the distance.

'I am coming back, Sebastian; and you are coming home with me. You'll see,' Esmé said as she took his face in her hands.

'Your hands are freezing!' Snape sniffed.

'Then you better have a hot fire ready for me when I get back.'

They began to kiss heatedly and for the briefest of moments the former Potions Master couldn't bear to let go. The coach crunched to a stop and Esmé got on. She turned around and to her surprise Snape was still standing there. The doors closed and she lumbered to a seat, throwing herself down. The bus finally took off and she stared out the window at Snape standing there at the stop, watching it as it disappeared until finally she couldn't see him anymore.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Esmé arrived in St. Helier and made the first ferry across to St. Malo. She hated being so mysterious, but it was a necessary evil. She tried not to think about it as she closed her eyes for a quick nap.

'_Might as well get some more sleep while I can…' she thought to herself_

Esmé had a long day ahead of her. Despite what she'd told Sebastian, she would be finished with her business that afternoon.

She only needed the extra time for the sake of appearances.

**xxxOOOxxx**

It seemed that no sooner had Esmé closed her eyes than she was being awakened by the announcement that they had reached St. Malo. She stretched and then made her way quickly to the terminal. She frowned as she took in the noise that greeted her. There were a reasonable amount of people even at this ungodly hour.

She walked quickly through the crowd and took a circuitous route away from the terminus buildings. There was no point to wasting precious time with conventional methods. There was a small park nearby and in ten minutes she'd found her spot.

There was one last look around to make sure that she was alone.

With a loud CRACK, Esmé Disapparated.


	14. La Femme Nikita

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ **

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 014: La Femme Nikita**

Esmé walked through the cold, snowy streets of Paris thinking of the man she'd left behind in Jersey. Sebastian Ravenscroft had to be an English Wizard, he just had to be. Twice he'd called out the name Merlin and that was surely no coincidence. But only because of an English friend was she even aware of the terminology in the world she was sure Sebastian had to have come from. How ironic that a man who was so controlled in every other aspect of his life could truly let go in the heat of lovemaking.

'He's English, a wizard and on the run…' she thought to herself wearily.

The young woman tried not to think of the reasons for Sebastian's predicament. But one thing did rankle at the back of her mind; the second war of the Dark Lord Voldemort, the metaphysical terrorist who was once again phenomenally out of control and seemingly unstoppable. There were others just as bad as him that wizardkind had fought against in other parts of the world, and they had been stopped. Yet the British Ministry of Magic seemed completely at a loss as to what to do with the disaster they had on their hands.

It made no sense; it made no sense at all.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Esmé crossed Boulevard Edgar-Quinet, heading south. When she reached the gates of Montparnasse Cemetary she looked around before entering. Once in she walked quickly to Baudelaire's crypt.

A lone figure was sat nearby as though mourning for some long-lost loved one. He was tall and slim with graying wavy hair. As though sensing her presence, he half-turned on his seat and never took his eyes off her as she came closer.

'We could have met in Patisserie Valerie you know,' Esmé said softly as she took a seat beside him. "It's too damn cold out here…'

The older man looked down at her and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind fashionable Dior glasses.

'I was beginning to worry that something had happened to you,' he murmured before leaning down and giving her four bisous as was customary in the City of Light.

His lips hovered dangerously near hers and Esmé pulled back and watched as he opened his eyes. They were the loveliest shade of blue-gray and she'd always felt she could get lost in them forever – but things had changed considerably since what was turning out to be a fateful trip to Jersey.

'What's that expression les rosbifs have – I am as tough as old boots,' she answered carefully. 'You seem to be holding up well…'

'Mmm; let's take a walk, shall we?'

He was nothing less than calm. As always, his baritone was even and soothing; Esmé relaxed just by being with him. The whole world could be crumbling around them – and still he would be the epitome of cool. But behind the calm, gentle exterior beat the heart of a lion.

He had seen so many horrors in his life, personally and professionally. And to be so calm even in the worst of adversities made her admire him even more. Christian Brassens stood and then helped Esmé to her feet. He tucked her arm through his and then placed his other hand on it as they walked slowly through the gloomy city of the dead.

'You still aren't convinced that your early retirement may have been premature,' he commented.

'I did the right thing Christian. 'We both know I did.'

'You always did have far more strength than I.'

'I had to; I know how it would end and it's not a road I can travel deliberately.'

'Unlike your sister.'

'Very unlike my sister…'

They continued to walk and left the cemetery. After a short trip on the metro the couple ended up in a spacious loft apartment that overlooked the whole of Montmartre. Both tried not to think about the times they had spent here, the times when their closeness took them into dangerous territory. Christian spent a lot of time here with work as the convenient excuse. There hadn't been anyone before or since Esmé and she supposed that if she had been another type of woman it would feed her ego and she'd make it work for her. Instead, it made her even more determined that she would never marry or give her heart to a man who would never be truly free to be with her. The way that Christian lived was just as bad as the D'Arcys and Michel. It was an all too common thing, really. But it was a reality that she did not want for herself. If a relationship wasn't working it needed to end and she couldn't understand the reasons they all had for why they just didn't do what they needed to for the sake of their own sanity and happiness.

'So – what's going on then?' Esmé finally asked after Christian handed her a steaming cup of tea.

He looked at her, curled up on his futon. In this moment he wanted to do nothing more than lay down with her and make love to her. He wished a lot of things for her and for him and for them as a couple. He wished they could go back to how things were between them once upon a time.

But he couldn't bring himself to leave his marriage because of his children and he knew Esmé didn't want that. The bare truth was that he also couldn't leave his marriage because his wife was the daughter of the Deputy Minister. Christian valued his career in Le Palais de la Justice Magique et Métaphysique and couldn't imagine doing anything else. The fact was that he would not have risen so high in the ranks had it not been for his wife setting her cap on him; and him yielding to the possibilities the alliance offered him. She had been very well connected, coming from an esteemed magical family. It had served him well over the years but at a very high cost.

In principal his life was a very good one given the privileges it afforded him. He managed to do as he chose and was never questioned. As far as anyone was concerned he was a devoted officer of the Ministry and family man. He played his part well – after all it was part and parcel of being an elite spy. Christian was married to a woman he didn't love. Marianne was a decent enough person; but he just didn't feel about her as he knew he should. Now that they had children, he would have to wait until his offspring were grown with lives of their own before he could do anything about it. He would be too old by then and there was no way that Esmé or would endure that.

The day he was bonded to his wife was the day his life ended. He said the words and performed the ritual knowing he didn't love his wife. Then Esmé came into his life, completely by accident not long after she'd left Beauxbatons. He met her in Bayeux at the behest of an old school friend under the pretense of being interested in her needlework. The luck of the gods must have been with him because after a few months of trying along with their friend he managed to convince her to work for him as an operative as and when the need arose. Her simple life provided ample enough cover for the work she did for the French magical government. In a short time Esmé proved his faith in her had not been misplaced and neither was that of their mutual friend. She had done extremely well at Beauxbatons and it made no sense to anyone why she preferred needlework to magic.

And then came that fateful night when they began to get close. And then the night she first stayed over here. It didn't matter that she was young enough to be his daughter; the only thing that mattered was her. Then she met that god-awful Michel person who had very nearly destroyed her. In the end she didn't really have her family to lean on as much as she should have, there was only Christian. Esmé had hidden herself away in this flat working on her tapestries and recovering after her illness, the illness he still felt very responsible for.

He didn't know it was possible to love someone the way he loved her, or for it to hurt so much to not be able to be with her. But he knew Marianne; she would do something stupid if he left her and his career would be in ruins. Esmé was stronger than he was – she was the one who ended it all. But he still was still convinced that Michel had been a horrible mistake of a rebound.

'First, les documents…' Christian said after crossing the room to his briefcase and taking out a package. "C'est tout.'

'Everything? What do you mean – everything? What are you talking about?'

'As far as anyone is concerned your Sebastian Ravenscroft never existed in his current identity or his previous incarnation. He is Sébastien Rochechouart. He was born and bred in France, in the Ardèche where he attended l'école Première and secondaire, rather than Beauxbatons. He achieved his Joint Master's in Mathematics and Science at La Sorbonne and went on to complete his Doctorate in Research. You have here his school records, medical history, degrees, identity card, passport and everything he could possibly need. There will be, here and there, those who will have little memories of him, but I don't sincerely believe that it will ever be necessary to call on them for their cooperation. These are very real, Esmé; and as such they are invaluable to him. For all intents and purposes he is just another man with extraordinary gifts who chooses to live an ordinary life; not a bad thing in such dangerous times.'

Esmé looked at him blindly as he sat next to her. She'd figured it would take her a few hours to sort out everything for Sebastian's new identity. But Christian was still very much plugged into the world she'd turned her back on – when he said 'jump' anyone who was smart said 'how high'. He could do things off his own back and no one would ever be the wiser. There were plenty of things they had done in the time she worked for his department in the French equivalent of the Ministry of Magic which had they become known would have cost them their jobs at the very least. He had come to see her on Jersey and taken a couple of the passport photos of Sebastian with him back to France. She should have known that he would do this, it was very much their style and she'd learned it all from him.

'His previous incarnation? What are you talking about?'

'You are taking an unbelievable risk for a man you know nothing about. And for a man we both know is a Wizard. Any one of them that can is trying to leave and by any means necessary. It's very difficult for them because they live in a very isolated existence. They aren't like us – they are not fully integrated into 'ordinary' British society. Your friend is damned lucky the immigrations controls were so lax. If he had left it even a couple of says later… I don't think it's worth mentioning.'

'So you think I'm stupid then? Do you think he's one of them? If that's what you think then why do all this?'

'I don't believe any such thing about you – I trust your gift, Esmé. It has never let us down before and I won't stop believing in it now. If your 'instinct' says that he is trustworthy then I must believe it. You were among the best of any intelligence and security experts who ever served under me. I also trust your sister hasn't totally forgotten what she learned at Beauxbatons either. But unlike her, I know that you know better where affairs of the heart are concerned and I have to trust that too. So I have complete faith that at some point you took measures to check what you could – undetected of course.'

Esmé nodded 'yes', her big brown eyes welling up with tears. There was no such thing as unconditional love, ever. Not when you were a spy.

Christian tilted her face up to his.

'I know he has managed to win your affection in a way that is impossible for me to have – and it's OK. But you can't let your heart over-rule common sense. And if I thought that was possible in any way we wouldn't be here now.'

'He's not married and he doesn't have obligations.'

'Unlike me.'

'Yes – unlike you.'

Esmé put her arms around him and hugged him tight as tears started to fall.

'That doesn't change how I feel,' Christian murmured as he held her. 'I will always be here even when you don't think you need me, ma chérie. But you will need me if it is a Death Eater you are sharing your bed with.'

'You've always been really good to me and I'm grateful. Just please trust me on this, Christian. I need you to…'

'I love you, Esmé. No matter what happens that will never change.'

Just then his mobile telephone rang and he crossed the room again to answer it. There was no denying the erection clearly visible through his heavy wool pants. She ignored the memories of their times together here that taunted her and began to put her boots back on. Christian clearly wasn't happy with whatever he was being told and was frowning as he listened. In the time it took for him to deal with whomever that was, his erection deflated.

'I need to go,' she murmured as he ended his call, thankful to whoever that had been on the phone.

'So do I; apparently all hell is breaking loose in Britain.'

Esmé looked at him with wide eyes.

'When are you leaving Jersey?' Christian asked darkly.

'Friday…in the morning I hope.'

'Good. I'll give you a call over the weekend before we get settled into our holidays.'

'What's going on? What's happened?'

Christian stopped rifling through his suitcase and looked up at her.

'The kill has been confirmed. You haven't lost that talent of yours. Never let your guard down Esmé; it will keep you alive.'

'Yes, just like we agreed. It was just a little too easy once I dealt with his bullshit, but I guess I shouldn't complain.'

The Frenchman let out a sigh of relief.

'Good – then that's the last of them then. Thank you – there really wasn't anyone else left I could send out. It's taking all our effort to contain this and now it's coming to a head.'

'So he was a Death Eater…'

'The last one of five to have made it to the Continent. This one was a peculiarly nasty piece of work, as you found out this morning. The British Minister of Magic is oddly detached from the situation – and that has raised some alarms.'

'I don't understand it! Voldemort isn't even necessarily the worst of the lot that ever walked – look at the situation in South America! I don't understand how that one was stopped in his tracks with far less effort and to me he was more dangerous than this one is! And why are his minions allowed to just walk when everyone and their mother knows where these people are? Is there anything they are really bothered about besides making sure the great British wizarding unwashed buys their latest spin!'

'I agree – and believe me we aren't the first who have had this idea. But something is about to break over there and I need to get back to the office.'

Christian stopped what he was doing and looked forlornly at Esmé.

'If British wizards were more like us and les Jèrriaises, their lives would be far different. They set themselves apart from non-magical people and don't know how to get along in this world because they don't really want to. The one course of study they have at Hogwarts is useless. They don't know Hitler any more than they do that supernatural viper that they nurtured in their bosom. They know nothing about even the simplest technologies and still use owls and talking fires. That is why the British are always at risk even amongst their own. You walk down the streets here and on the continent and we don't stand out. We embrace the world that we exist alongside of and it has served us well. You always had the right idea about what your life should be like and it's fortunate that you have the father that you do. It's the thing that has kept your head above water.'

'Papa has always been far more pragmatic than maman; the only thing she cares about is our "rightful place in society"…'

'Just promise me you won't leave later than Friday or Saturday at the most. If what I think is coming, no doubt some of the inhabitants of neighbouring islands in the Channel will try to cross over to Jersey. We will be sending in the Bastille Guards to patrol our borders and those of Jersey. Jersey may be a Crown Dependency to Britain, but in her affairs she is truly French. She has formally allied with us and the British are seeing red over it.'

Esmé nodded numbly. For their Ministry to be sending in its elite cadre of investigative combat officers, the situation in Britain had to be bordering on anarchy.

'And the press over there,' she said. 'How are they playing this?'

'As far as we know, it's business as usual with the various Prophet papers. The publishing is controlled by the Ministry of Magic so we expect nothing less. However, the cracks are beginning to show. I will know more when I hear from our operatives. We also have an informant who is proving to be quite _interesting_, to say the least.'

'So you've managed it then?'

'Yes. I would have preferred for you to have been one of them, but I am more than confident that the job will get done. Everything is falling into place.

Christian sighed.

'It's good to be able to talk to you about these things.'

'I can do my bit for the cause in giving you a sounding board. But I can't go back to that life. And I only did what I did this morning for Sebastian.'

'You've done far worse things for me so I can't hold it against you, not that I ever would.'

They both put on their coats and then left together. Christian walked Esmé to a small, but discreet park where she could Disapparate. He was going to have to find a way to tell her all that had not been said to her.

He knew her situation better than she thought she did, but before he took decisive action there were some determinations he needed to make for himself.

* * *

_ Author's comment:_

_I just wanted to thank each of you that has taken the time to read and offer descriptive feedback. It's making me think about my story as I write it and that is what I want. I must confess that though it may seem as though I've done intricate planning, I haven't. As always I start out with the overall idea, certain things that have to happen along the way and where I want the story to end up. I just sit down and write. I research as I go where I think its necessary, but for the most part this is very spontaneous as are my other stories._

_With regards to this chapter - what Esmé is and her background was at the forefront of my mind when I conceived of this story. It was always my intention that the reader would know be clued in about Esmé long before Snape would._


	15. Friends

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ **

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 015: Friends**

Since she had quite a bit of time Esmé thought she might as well take care of a few things since she was in Paris. After the difficult morning she'd had, she needed relief. She'd done nothing but think about Christian – and Sebastian. There was something about Sebastian that was struggling to formulate in her mind. But she was rather stressed at the moment and just didn't have the peace of mind to think as thoroughly as she knew she needed to.

Galleries Lafayette had always been one of her favourite destinations in Paris. She could do some shopping and forget about the double life that she'd led; the double life that she was leading once again. She had been pulled kicking and screaming back into her old life as an intelligence operative. Everything that was happening was because of a man she really didn't know, but whom she growing to love – and the man that she wasn't ruthless enough to take from his wife and children and whom she would never stop caring about.

Esmé stood in one of the designer boutiques and rifled through a rack of lingerie that was definitely not meant for everyday use. Thoughts about Sebastian hammered in the quagmire that passed as her brain. The young woman could not resist a smirk as she eyeballed the merchandise. She picked up a few carefully chosen items and then breezed through the rest of the shops in the large department store. Who was she kidding – she wanted Sebastian to walk into her life in Bayeux on a more permanent basis.

'C'est fou!' she admonished herself.

She'd always heard of people who made a strong commitment within a short while of meeting each other and never really believed in it. If couples who'd known each other for months or years before getting married or living together ended up with a fractured relationship, there was no way a connection that was rushed could survive the inevitable pressures.

And yet she was pushing herself blindly and hoping that a man not given to being impulsive would give into being seduced by her.

'It's insane,' she admonished herself again.

Esmé continued with her shopping in the snowy streets of Paris well into late afternoon, picking up a few odds and ends for her house. She walked through a small park to get to what would have to be her last destination before going home to Bayeux. She had just crossed a small pond and clump of trees when she whirled around and fixed a would-be assailant with a deadly glare.

'Oww! OK! I give in! Stop dammit!' the woman who had been behind her screamed as several stinging hexes hit her one after the other. 'Damn you – you are still good, you know that?'

Esmé was still holding onto her bags and hadn't drawn her wand.

'Of course I am.'

The other woman laughed as Esmé dropped her bags and gave her a hug.

'You look great, Esmé – you really do. Things must be quite improved between you and Christian.'

'We're not together, Sasha… I told you; I can't…'

'I don't know too many people who could walk away from their soulmate.'

'He's not my soulmate. If he was, things would be a lot different.'

'Mmm no, I disagree.'

'It's true. If Christian was The One; I'd move heaven and earth to be with him – and I'm not inclined to do that and for all the love that he has for me and everything he does for me; he still wouldn't leave her. At the end of the day – his career is everything to him now and he wouldn't have had it without her, so he says. I don't agree, but that's just me…'

The two women picked up Esmé's bags and began to walk.

'Just because I have something on my mind doesn't mean I'm oblivious to people following me,' Esmé snorted. 'So – what are you up to and why.'

'Please – I walked by Lush and happened to see you standing at the till. I was just having a laugh – that's all. Its getting more and more difficult to find anything to smile about these days.'

'It's not funny Sasha. There's too much going on and it's dangerous! You're lucky I was even aware that it was you!'

'Alright – point taken. I tell you, no one will be happier than me when all this shit is over.'

'Why don't we have a quick bite and then we can have a good old-fashioned girlie chat.' Esmé suggested. 'It's too damn cold out here. God knows I've spent enough money…'

'Sounds good… This is the last real break I'm going to have for a while and I want to enjoy myself while I can.'

'Oh?'

'Things are a bit hectic at work – and I've got something else going after the New Year. My life won't really be my own, probably not for a long time.'

Esmé looked at her old friend. Sasha wasn't telling her _something_; whatever it was had to be fairly important.

**xxxOOOxxx**

'So… what gives?' Esmé asked as she unpacked bags of miniaturised items and sorted out her house with her friend helping her.

There was definitely something to be said for being magical. For a start she couldn't wait to have things delivered and needed to get the house ready. As far as Esmé was concerned, Sebastian was coming back with her and she wanted him to really like the place.

'I can ask you the same question. Something is going on Esmé – I know you.'

'I'm fine…'

'You are very restrained... phenomenally restrained; and yet you just spent a small fortune on sexy lingerie and finally turning this place into a proper home.' Sasha commented as she pulled a miniature table out of one bag and returned it to its proper size.

'I have plenty of lingerie you know.'

'Uh huh…'

'I do!'

'I know you do – but I haven't seen you act like this since you were agonising over all that hot shagging with Christian. You have seen him – haven't you?'

'I saw him this morning as a matter of fact.'

'I don't understand you two! I really don't!' Sasha said exasperatedly. 'I think deep down both of you are a couple of sadists. What does it do for you to keep meeting up and torturing yourselves with how long you can go without a good hard fuck!'

'Sasha!'

'You can't stand there and tell me that this morning you didn't want to, Esmé! This is me, remember? It doesn't take much for either you and I should know - remember!'

'It just so happens I am with someone now! I wouldn't cheat on him, Sasha, I wouldn't!'

'What? You didn't have anyone last week when you hot-footed it to Jersey!'

'No – but things have changed…'

'In a week? Are you serious? So who's the lucky fella then?'

'His name is Sébastien…'

'_And...'_

'He's French…'

'I gathered as much….' Sasha sighed with an exaggerated eye-roll. 'Being a bit mysterious aren't we?'

'There isn't anything to tell'

'Nothing to tell… and yet all this fuss over someone you only just met?'

'It just so happens he's coming back here for the holidays…'

Sasha looked around the bedroom where they'd moved to shift Esmé's clothes.

'Right – and he needs half of your closet and drawer space for a couple weeks…'

Esmé didn't reply as she walked back to her living room and looked around, carefully scrutinising every detail. The only man who'd spent any significant time here was Christian. He'd found the house for her after her illness and it was thanks to him that she had been able to secure it outright. But she'd never really done anything to make it truly hers, and now that Sebastian was coming she found the energy that had been lacking.

Sasha followed and quirked an eyebrow at her friend; Esmé was notorious for never lowering herself to the antics of the guys in the band. Going crazy over some bloke that wasn't going to amount to more than a shag didn't make any sense. The fact that Esmé had even bothered was…_odd_…'

'You don't think… Esmé; you haven't convinced yourself you're madly in love with this guy, have you?'

'What is it with you, huh? Two weeks ago you were ready to take my head off because I wasn't getting involved with anyone and now I shouldn't be bothering?'

'I'm not picking on you! I just don't understand why all the mystery.'

'You said it yourself, Sasha. I haven't known him very long. The whole idea is to get to know him better – a lot better. He's only passing through Jersey and so am I so it's not exactly ideal, now is it?'

'Have mercy girl – a holiday romance…'

'He's not married, he has no obligations except to himself and working isn't his life. I'd like to think I stand a better chance at having more than just a fling.'

'Uh huh; and he's told you that has he?'

There was nothing but silence as Esmé went into her large kitchen and started preparing a small meal that would see them both through. Sasha took a seat at the table, watching her friend with concerned eyes.

'I just don't want to see you hurt again – that's all…'

'You won't, being across the Channel as you are. I don't know why you bother with Britain myself. This is your home.'

'Well – maybe if I'd gone to school here things might have turned out differently. But I've got a good job and my talents will take me farther there since the right people know who I am…'

'You haven't even tried to see what opportunities are here. Les rosbifs just strike me as incredibly incompetent.' Esmé replied as she handed Sasha a steaming cup of tea and placed one for herself at her seat.

'And so they are – which is why a bright spark like me can get ahead. I've been noticed by the right people, important people, and I can make this work for me. They want me more than their cherished favourites and that is saying something.'

'You're not talking about your job – it's this other thing, isn't it?'

'One more than the other – and it is the other, yes…'

'So… are you going to tell me what this exciting something is?'

'No… not yet. I'm not really at liberty to say.'

'Right! So now who's being mysterious,' Esmé snorted as she placed a serving platter on the table with omelettes and croissants followed by plates, knives and forks for each of them.

'Really – I shouldn't have even mentioned it as it was!'

'Then why did you?'

'Look – I might need your help eventually.'

'My help? I can't imagine you'd have much use for an artisan with whatever mysterious thing it is that you are doing. I still don't understand what it is that you even do for a living.'

'I'm… not really at liberty to say…'

'…and you've _already said too much_ – yes I've heard that before…'

Esmé paused as she lifted her fork to her mouth.

'Sasha – you're not getting mixed up in whatever it is that's going on over there – are you?'

'It's hard for anyone to not be involved.'

'That's not answering the question and you know it.'

Esmé looked at Sasha as a growing comprehension set off the ubiquitous lightbulb over her head.

'_So you are working for the Ministry of Magic… and whatever it is that you do can't be talked about. But you are speaking to me really because of this other thing – putting me on the alert, aren't you?'_

'You saw Christian this morning – and that was no coincidence, surely.'

'It's never a coincidence when I'm at his place.'

'And nothing is going on between you two, is it?'

'It's strictly platonic.'

'And how many times have you ended up in bed?'

'None – not since I moved out of his place after… _Mr. Wonderful_,' Esmé sneered.

'I never thought Michel was that bad myself…'

'You don't know him – and you live in London so how could you know? You were preoccupied with the heady delights of whoever the flavour of the month was back then…'

'That's not fair, Esmé!'

'You're Chris' friend more than you are mine, and that's a fact! There's no point in pretending otherwise. Since you're dying to know all about my personal life why don't you ask her and stop bugging me about it – like you always do! Oh – except you've already spoken to her, haven't you? You know everything there is to know! But I still don't know what it is that you, of all people, want from me!'

'Trust me – I wish I didn't!'

'Right – so you two have spoken! I don't need these games, Sasha, and especially from you of all people.'

'Looks, Chris is worried and so am I…'

'I'm a grown woman, and I think it's about time the two of you and everybody else remembers that. If it wasn't for Chris and my mother things would have been a lot different. Both of them live their lives with their heads buried in the sand; everything is just fine because they won't agree to any reality other than their own…'

Esmé proceeded to tell Sasha everything that had happened, and especially the finer details that her mother and sister didn't care to know about. The other woman sat in a stunned silence, occasionally opening her mouth as though to speak, but never finding the words. When Esmé was done, they both sat in silence until Esmé refilled their mugs with more tea, taking care to prepare Sasha's the English way as her friend was accustomed to.

'I'm sorry, Esmé. I really am.'

'If it wasn't for Christian – I might have done something really stupid. I was so isolated and no one in the family wanted to hear it; they like being important and untainted by scandal. They don't particularly like Christian and I really don't give a damn. But I think that's also why he would never do what he could for his own happiness. Marianne's family at least welcome him and don't hold it against him that he's not from a prominent wizarding family loaded with money. Being respected is very important to him, and we both know what my mother and sisters are like.'

'Then he's a fool. He should do what he needs to for his own sake and to hell with anyone else! Why should he care what your family thinks about him? He loves you and wants to be with you – and yet he won't because of your prissy mum and sisters? Do me a favour!'

'And that, my dear Sasha, is where he and Sebastian are very different. That's something I do know at this point.'

'I hope it works out for you, I really do. Chris wouldn't say much about this man of yours, but the conversation wasn't about you really. She is wrapped up tight about Gill…'

Esmé snorted.

'Let's not talk about that. I'm in a decent enough mood but just thinking about him makes my blood boil!'

''I can see why – I tried to tell Chris I think they are making a huge mistake to move into together straight away but…'

Esmé dropped her fork and it hit the floor with a loud clatter.

'_**WHAT?'**_

'Are you telling me you don't know?'

'I think that's obvious!'

'She told me last night when I rang her up. That's how I knew you were going to be back here for a day or so. Anyway, Gill's asked her to marry him and she's said yes! He's moving out of that little place he was calling home with the soon-to-be ex Mrs. D'Arcy and in with her.'

'Moving in with her? After all this time…? I cant believe it!'

'Chris said that they are moving into the ancestral estate as soon as the architects are finished. Gill wasted no time and is sparing no expense. He wants to restore it to its former glory and the two of them are going live there and start a family. They will move in just after the New Year. Elizabeth D'Arcy is fit to be tied from what I heard. She wanted to be Lady of the Manor. Apparently she was suffering under the delusion that she was going to take what she thinks is her rightful place there. She hated that little place of theirs with its six measly bedrooms. Gill is going to be renting it out and will put in tenant farmers in Chris' place.'

'Only a bitch like Elizabeth D'Arcy could turn her nose up at such a fantastic house. It's not dissimilar from what she grew up in as I understand it. I can't stand people like her who make out like they are so poor when her family does quite well, certainly well enough to land themselves in the circles that D'Arcy moves in,' Esmé sniffed as she washed up the kitchenware they'd used. 'But it sounds like Gillaume has it all figured out and Chris is going along with it.'

'Come on – don't be such a sourpuss. Chris has waited a long time for this…'

'Chris is a big girl – it's not for me to approve or disapprove. But I know what Elizabeth D'Arcy is like! She is not going to just roll over and play dead. D'Arcy is really rubbing her face in it and so is Chris, no doubt. I know what my sister is like; she's bound to be prouder than a peacock.'

'She's a free woman now. She doesn't have to live a life that doesn't suit her. Farming isn't her thing – come on Esmé; we both know that.'

'She only did it because of D'Arcy. Maman will be over the moon. She wants 'Ladies Who Lunch' for daughters – she will finally have one. But D'Arcy is a married man moving in with his mistress! We all know that Elizabeth had lovers – but she didn't move herself in with them!'

'Well… that might change actually…' Cat said knowingly as they moved into the living room and took seats on a rather overstuffed but comfortable sofa.

'My god – there's more?'

'No – but from what you said about Michel; it stands to reason that Elizabeth D'Arcy will use this as an opportunity to be with him now.'

'Hmmph – time will tell I guess…'

'You sound as though you don't believe it's possible. You aren't hung up over Michel are you? Not after everything he's put you through?'

'No – not at all. I just… I don't know… It's twisted that this small group of people are married and having affairs and then moving on with their lovers – and they are all friends! D'Arcy is clueless about Michel and if Elizabeth D'Arcy really wants to hurt him, moving in with Michel is a great way to do it! If anything it will prove that I wasn't some deluded child when I tried to tell them.'

'But?'

'But – something ugly is going to kick off over all this; I know it as sure as I know when I was born. D'Arcy's showing his true colours… Maybe he feels justified and just wants to prove something to himself and to Chris, but I do think they are going about it the wrong way…'

'Well – at least Chris won't have to be bothered with a life that she really doesn't want to lead. D'Arcy's taking control and she's more than happy to let him do it. She'd going to set up an art gallery with his blessing – and his backing. And she will be overseeing that foundation that D'Arcy has for arts and culture.'

'She's getting everything she ever wanted and then some…' Esmé sighed.

Suddenly she froze.

'Esmé – are you alright?'

'_Damn it I don't believe those two!_ I need to get back to Jersey – to hell with waiting another few hours!'

'Chris is ok – calm down.' Sasha said breathlessly as she raced behind Esmé to the front hall.

'It's not Chris I'm worried about…' Esmé snapped as she grabbed their coats from the closet in her foyer.

'Do you want to tell me what's going on?'

'I'm just thinking about other people that are going to be affected by this madness…'

'Lizzie D'Arcy and Michel? Why should you care about them?

'**I don't…'**

'But…'

'Enough with the twenty questions – I need to get to the ferry!'

Sasha looked at her watch.

'_Crikey_ – I had no idea it was that late. I've got to get going myself.'

The two women jumped into Esmé's 4x4 and roared down the lane that led to town.

'You never did tell me what you might need me for…' Esmé said quickly.

'Well – I might have need of someone who's fairly good with potions. None of the people I'm working with are capable of doing anything beyond re-recreating what they read in books. I have some ideas about a few things that have happened… But I need more time to see if I'm right…'

'Potions? Now wait just a minute…'

'Look, I need someone who can cross-analyse and create spells and potions. We've got some good people – but they can't do what I can and there isn't time to teach them everything they'd need to know to help me! I've spoken to the Higher-Up that brought me in, and she'd love to have the help if you're willing. She thinks very highly of me and of course would want to meet you a few times to get a sense of what you're like, but she trusts my judgment. Their people are being slaughtered left, right and center – she'd no dunderhead, they need all the help they can get.'

'Maybe if they weren't so damn picky about who they admitted to their precious school and their ministry they'd have more support!'

'You've got too much talent to waste your life spinning cotton! A lot is at stake this time around; sooner or later we will all be affected by it!'

An alarm went off in Esmé's mind and Christian's voice rose from its depths.

'_Just promise me you won't leave later than Friday or Saturday at the most,' he'd said. 'If what I think is coming, no doubt some of the inhabitants of neighbouring islands in the Channel will try to cross over to Jersey. We will be sending in the Bastille Guards to patrol our borders and those of Jersey. Jersey may be a Crown Dependency to Britain, but in her affairs she is truly French. She has formally allied with us and the British are seeing red over it.'_

'No,' Esmé thought to herself. 'It's only the British who will be affected by this because Europe isn't going to allow this to become their problem like they did the last time.'

'I've got my own life to lead Sasha,' she said aloud. 'And there is something you've been holding back from me since the moment we met in Paris.'

'Damn you and that gift of yours…'

'What's going on? Something is motivating you beyond a simple desire to rid the world of the pestilence of a Dark Wizard…'

'You know that someone tried to kill Albus Dumbledore…'

'Hmm I remember hearing something to that effect, yes…'

'_Esmé this is the greatest wizard of the age we are talking about – not the man that sells ice cream in Diagon Alley!'_

'The life of your ice cream man is just as important – he isn't worth any less because he's not in your ministry or running a wizarding school.'

'Ok, OK! Anyhow – the man that is believed to have attempted murder was my old Potions Master who also taught Defense Against the Dark Arts for a time. They couldn't anyone to teach DADA – that job seems to be jinxed. But Professor Snape, Severus Snape, agreed to do it. He also happened to be my Head of House in Slytherin. Most people outside our House don't give a shit about him, but he always looked after us – or at least he tried to. I know for a fact that he worked his bollocks off trying to protect us and keep the impressionable ones from running off to join You-Know-Who…'

'_And?'_

'_And…_ I don't believe the things they are saying in the papers and I definitely don't believe what's being said amongst the people in the resistance. They won't be pleased to see me and I definitely know of one that is going to want me to be anywhere but in her presence.

'Tough shit, she'll have to deal with it the same as the rest of them!'

''Zact! The only man who can clear Professor Snape's name is near death. And somehow, someway he can be brought back. I know he can! But I need help and that help isn't going to come from the circle of people that Professor McGonagall knows and trusts – she's the woman who brought me in to help The Order of the Phoenix…the resistance.'

'_Oh Merde…'_

'Professor Snape has been gone for a very long time now and there's no chance he's alive. He was exposed as a Death Eater and the other side were out for his blood as much as ours were. But to read the papers he's public enemy number one and not that thing he served once upon a time. Dumbledore apparently believed in him and Snape had joined the original Order just before You-Know-Who reached the height of his powers the last time and spied for the Headmaster at a great risk to himself. Dumbledore even testified in support of him during the trials. He flat out said that Severus Snape was no more a Death Eater than he was. Snape was released from Azkaban and then took up the Potions Masters job at Hogwarts.

But Professor Snape was a very clever and talented wizard, much better than anyone ever wanted to give him credit for – save Dumbledore and some of us Slytherins. It's too complicated to get into, but suffice it to say that to get rid of You-Know-Who is going to take a lot more than the talent the Order has at the moment. My former Head of House would have been the only one who would have had a chance to sort this out what with Dumbledore being near death and all – but there isn't anyone that comes close to knowing what he knows. He could brew the Wolfsbane Potion easy peasy – and that's saying something. But there hasn't been anyone that could do it since he disappeared – and they need me to try, amongst other things. That's why McGonagall reached out to me – I was one of the best students he ever had and I know a lot more than the esteemed minds in the Order at the moment. She worries that I might be more loyal to him than the Order – but that's not my problem.'

'They need you, not the other way around.'

''**Zact!'**

'So – sounds like they have a werewolf or two in their midst…'

'Mmm hmm; another former professor. He actually taught DADA for a year and then got found out for what he was…'

'So of course he had to go…'

'Yes,' Sasha sighed. 'Aside from Professor Snape he probably was the best DADA teacher they ever had. Lupin was creepy though – something about him I just didn't like… I'll have to deal with him now because he's in the Order and one of Dumbledore's dearest friends.'

'God – what a soap opera…'

'A what?'

Esmé rolled her eyes.

'What a load of over-the-top drama…'

'The nature of the beast I guess. So… what do you say?' Will you at least consider it? Maybe if you met with McGonagall and me together…?'

'And of course she gave you her blessing to have this 'little girlie chat' with me, eh?'

'That she did!' Sasha grinned. 'So come on what do you say?'

Esmé sighed and then shook her head.

'So much for not being at liberty to tell me anything – as if I would commit myself to something I didn't really understand… Let's just see how you get on and what the deal is with these people. I'm not turning my life upside down for something that has nothing to do with me!'

'You-Know-Who is a threat to all of us, Esmé,' Sasha replied firmly. 'It's not like you to turn away from the obvious – but it's the truth. People who don't stand for something will fall for anything.'

Esmé didn't reply. It was obvious that Sasha didn't know as much as she thought she did, and Esmé wasn't going to be the one to enlighten her. Christian had her loyalty and she had no doubt of anything that he told her and especially given her role in helping him. Sasha only knew of him because she'd caught them together twice in the flat above the little shop Esmé used to have to sell her tapestries and going into his flat in Paris. Eventually they were introduced. but Sasha had no idea that Christian worked for the French intelligence service of the equivalent of the Ministry of Magic. Sasha also had no idea of Esmé's unofficial role as an intelligence agent either.

She turned it over in her mind. This could actually be quite useful. She would talk to Christian about it, of course. But it seemed highly probably that he would agree to her getting involved with Sasha and this Order of the Phoenix.

'Ok, I will consider it,' she finally answered.

Sasha let out a loud whoop.

'Don't get too excited! I will think about it and we can see how you get on. But I will tell you right now, France is my home and France is where I will stay…' Esmé said sharply.

They pulled up just outside her parent's house which wasn't too far from the ferry terminal.

'Sounds like you have already made up your mind to me!' Sasha said excitedly as she slammed the passenger door shut. 'I'll let Professor McGonagall know about what we talked about and then see how it goes. I'll call you once you are back from Jersey.'

Esmé nodded and then took off as Sasha disappeared into her parent's house.

There were more important things to sort out, not the least of which was getting back to Jersey. Sebastian had to be aware of what was going on with her sister and D'Arcy. It seemed that there was no longer a place for him there. Given that fact, the man from nowhere might go on the run again if he hadn't taken off already.

Sebastian had been so anxious about her leaving and not coming back that she could only hope that he was still there, waiting for her.


	16. Allonsy! Let’s go!

**JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.**

**ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. _If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won't find it here._ **

**Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter's 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.**

**The Man Who Came In from the Cold**

**Chapter 016: Allons-y! (Let's go!)**

It was no small miracle that Esmé didn't kill herself or someone else with her driving. Her heart raced several miles per minute as she roared from St. Helier to her sister's house, finally pulling up the back drive shortly past midnight. Voldemort might as well been on her tail she was so reckless. To her dismay it had begun to snow again, and from what she'd heard on the radio another blizzard was on its way. She and Sebastian definitely needed to leave in the early morning.

A feeling of dread washed over the young woman as she jumped out of the 4x4, slamming the door behind her. Both her sister's house and the outbuilding where Sebastian lived looked deserted – maybe it was because of what Sasha had told her earlier. Most farmers wouldn't stay up very late if they could help it since they were up before dawn. There was still work to do here, after all. Everyone was probably in bed, she reasoned. Even D'Arcy was fastidious about getting a good night's sleep, despite his recent behaviour to the contrary.

Still, it was quiet, dead quiet, and more than a bit unnerving. But before she could think about what to do next, there was the sound of crunching. Not prepared for anyone being out and about, she tried to determine the direction the noise was coming from. It was difficult since the wind had picked up and the snowfall was getting increasingly heavier.

'Esmé?' came a familiar voice through noise.

'S…Sebastian?' she blurted out impulsively.

Without thinking, she started to run before he confirmed who he was. They must have both been running, as they seemed to meet somewhere in the middle of the distance that had separated them.

'You're early!' Snape said with a smile, quite taking Esmé by surprise.

'I…I heard about the storm…wanted to get back so I could take you home,' she mumbled in his ear as he hugged her.

'I couldn't sleep… Come – let's get inside where it's warm…' he said, wrapping a long arm around her and pulling her close.

They hadn't even been in the house for five minutes before they were locked in a passionate kiss. Esmé hadn't really been convinced that she would find him here, and Snape hadn't been entirely sure that she would come back. There was so much each wanted to say to the other about the short time that they'd been forced apart; but there weren't the words. There was only that kiss – and the way they held each other.

Esmé broke their interlude by reaching into her shoulder bag and pulling out an envelop, handing it to him silently. Snape looked at it and then at her. His eyes rested on the envelop again as she turned on a lamp.

'Joyeux Noel,' she said hoarsely as he pulled out the very real French passport and identity card it contained.

Snape shook his dark head in disbelief as tears of relief streamed down her face.

'How on earth did you…?' he asked incredulously as she bit her bottom lip.

'I…um…'

Esmé had turned it over and over in her mind about what to say. She wanted to tell the truth; she wanted to end the lies between them on both sides. But she just couldn't do it… And because she couldn't do it there wouldn't be any way she could convince him to leave with her for good… this was all so hopeless…

Just then they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

'Everything will be alright,' Snape murmured before giving Esmé another quick kiss.

He jumped up and crossed the room, opening the door to Christiane.

'I thought that was you…' she said none too irritably as she stormed into the room and stood over her sister.

'By all means, come in!' Snape snapped.

'You are so selfish, Chris! YOU ARE SO DAMN SELFISH!' Esmé shrieked.

'So I heard!' Christiane replied darkly. 'We can discuss what you really think about me and Gill some other time – this really isn't the right moment for _you_, now is it!'

Snape looked at Esmé, searching her face for answers.

'Ah – timing. Yes, I do remember your obsession about the right time for everything. Except in this situation, there really isn't any right time, is there? The end result is still the same. You'll stroll out of here on your high horse regardless.' Esmé answered coldly.

'That's not fair and you know it!'

'Yes, you've _waited a long time_…God knows how many times we'll all have to listen to that old chestnut!'

'I have, dammit! And you know it Esmé! You of all people!'

'Even after everything that I have tried to get into that thick head of yours…'

The tensions that had been growing steadily erupted into the mother of all arguments as the two sisters fought each other.

'STOP! I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!' Snape roared as he stood between them and pushed them apart. 'What in blazes is going on?'

'You selfish BITCH!' Esmé screamed. 'It's bad enough I had to find out by going home but how could you not tell Sebastian, of all people! He deserves to know! How could you do this to him Chris? How? Of all people HE NEEDS TO KNOW!'

'Well isn't that the pot calling the kettle black – my dear little sister!'

Esmé froze for just the briefest of moments like a deer caught in the headlights; and this did not pass unnoticed by Snape.

'D'Arcy and I are engaged. He is getting a quickie divorce and we will be married in the summer,' Christiane explained without breaking a sweat. 'The ancestral D'Arcy estate will be our new home and we will move into the manor house as soon as it's ready for us, in about a month's time. He's got construction crews and architects working around the clock, 24 hours a day…'

'So… the rumours which reached my ears not so long ago were indeed true,' Snape said darkly. 'I had wondered when you would see fit to discuss these matters with me!'

'You knew?' Esmé sputtered. 'But how…? I only found out by accident myself.'

'Every servant and tenant of D'Arcy knows!' Snape growled dangerously. 'And his recent appearances in St. Helier with his **mistress** did not pass unnoticed – as was intended. Of course, Jeri being Jeri and D'Arcy being the pillar of the community that he is, no one would dare speak in public about it…It's been a hot topic of conversation behind closed doors here for the past few days. D'Arcy wasn't as discreet as he should have been when he made his arrangements and neither are some of the people in whom he places so much faith!'

'Why didn't you say something?' Esmé asked.

'I wanted your sister to have every opportunity to tell me herself, especially given the fact that I was about to spend the holidays in your company. D'Arcy is not likely to keep me on here any more than I really want to remain given the change in circumstance. But I was suffering under the illusion that she would see fit to inform me before your return! Despite any misgivings, I at least thought her fair. I can see that my willingness to trust her to do the right thing by me was nothing less than delusion on my part!'

'You will still come, won't you?' Esmé asked. 'You don't have to stay on Jersey have options, Sebastian – with me.'

Christiane looked at her sister in horror. 'You mean for him to go back with you – for good? Have you lost your mind!' she interrupted. "He's almost old enough to be your father! What it is with you and this papa fixation…!'

'It's not really your business, certainly no more than this disastrous situation with D'Arcy is mine!' Esmé interjected.

'_You know why!'_

'What exactly is your objection!' Snape snarled as he stepped closer to Christiane. 'Your attitude towards me has completely changed and I am entitled to know why!'

Christiane glared at her sister and said nothing as she barged past her and out the front door.

**xxxOOOxxx**

He was tempted, Merlin knew he was so sorely tempted to use Legilimency; but Esmé didn't deserve that even though her sister definitely did.

'You really didn't know, did you?' Snape asked as he stroked her long hair away from her face.

'No. I found out tonight through Chris' best friend back home. That's why I came back early; I thought if she knew then surely you had to…and I thought… I was worried…'

'You were concerned that I might not be here when you returned.'

Esmé nodded, blinking back hot tears.

Snape didn't reply as he took her into his arms and held her tight. All of his questions about the passport and identity card were pushed to the side momentarily.

'I…had concerns myself,' he muttered after turning off the lamp and helping her up.

They went upstairs to the sleeping loft, each certain that this would be their last time doing so. Both undressed hurriedly, eager to be in each other's arms once again.

His mouth sought hers in the darkness once they were in bed. Slowly he worked his way downward, caressing her nipples with his tongue and nipping them gently. There was a trail of wetness as he moved further south, kissing and licking the most private part of her body. Esmé began to thrust against his tongue uncontrollably and cried out for him. Snape moved upwards and entered her slowly, letting out a low groan as he felt her tighten around him. They found their rhythm and bit by bit the slow boil percolated into an intense heat that rendered them lost to anything but their mutual pleasure. The former Potions Master hit that blessed spot which caused the young woman to clench tightly around him, pulling him deeper and deeper as he thrust harder and faster.

'Esmé…' Snape moaned. 'Oh God!'

He cried out and shook hard as his seed spilled, filling her and covering his manhood in hot stickiness. He was so tempted, Merlin he was so tempted to make love a while longer. He was a wizard, after all. They could carry on for another few hours – but Esmé didn't know what he was and this was not the way for her to find out, if she was ever to find out. He'd been battling with the devil on his left shoulder about it since she left for France.

Snape finally pulled out and rolled off of her, willing his body to calm as a Muggle's would. He had thought about so many things while Esmé was gone. He couldn't tell her what he was and what he'd done. The only certainties were that he was not ready to lose her and he did not want to hurt her either. He could feel heat once more as she began to pleasure him with her mouth. He felt himself getting hard once again and it was a battle of wills as his body responded to her ministrations while his mind protested against it.

'We should stop…' he murmured tensely. 'We should leave before daybreak and we need to get some rest. This storm will be a raging blizzard by late morning.'

Esmé crawled up the length of his body and settled her head on his shoulder.

'Do you always have to be so practical?' she asked through a contented sigh.

They began to kiss and touch each other again.

'Are you sure…' Snape began.

'Yes, I am. Let's just get to Bayeux and enjoy Christmas. We can think about what to do after that…'

'You're insane – do you realise that?'

'I could say the same about you, Sir…'

Snape didn't answer as he pulled her closer, lost in thought. Esmé fell asleep within a few minutes, but he was wide awake thinking about how his life and luck had completely changed – and praying silently that the worst was over.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape and Esmé rose at four-thirty. Both had quick showers and talked about what needed to be packed over breakfast. He hadn't seen fit to try and make the outbuilding a true home, never really believing that he would end up spending a significant amount of time there. By five-thirty they had his things packed and were headed towards St. Helier.

They had a somewhat tense discussion about his new identity and the variation in Ardéchoise accent from that of Normandy. Fortunately, the differences weren't that significant and if he'd spend a great deal of time in another region and living outside of the country it was bound to have been affected. It was no different to the change from the common Northern English accent of the Black Country that he'd had until his fifth year at Hogwarts. His speech had radically changed in manner and tone because of his desire to ingratiate himself with the elite who would have looked down on a working-class boy like him even more than they had done.

'So how did you manage this, Esmé? You didn't say.' Snape asked quietly as he fingered the treasure in his coat pocket once the discussion about his accent died off.

'An old friend. He's very well connected.'

'Ahh – hence D'Arcy's comments about the company you keep…'

''Zact; he feels justified in his judgments of we lesser mortals. But I do have a lot more common sense than I'm generally given credit for – especially by people who don't know me at all.'

'This…_friend_... He must be a very close one to have done this for you.'

'He is – and you'll meet him…' Esmé sighed through a frown as she pulled into the ferry terminus.

The snow was falling thick and fast and it was difficult to see where she was going. Before Snape could question her further, six men surrounded their car. A burly man appeared by her window, shining a light that was too bright.

'Passports and identity cards please…' he asked after she rolled down the window a bit.

'Both?' Esmé asked quizzically as she rifled through her shoulder bag. She guessed he was from Marseille given his accent.

'You must not have heard…'

'No – we haven't. What's going on?' Snape asked smoothly in French with distinctly Lyonnaise accent.

Esmé resisted the impulse to look at him and hoped her face didn't betray her astonishment. She'd heard of people who were fast learners, but this was something else. Still, his life did depend on this…

'There's a situation in the British Isles. They've got a Level Four security situation – something to do with home-grown terrorists and the like. There's talk of riots, criminals running loose… they've got a sun-down to sun-up curfew on the mainland, the Outer Hebrides and the Channel Islands. Jersey's the only exception because of the alliance with France.'

Snape remained silent as he handed Esmé his passport and identity card to give to the officer. The man looked at both closely and then had one of the others walk around the car. A light was shone at Snape who didn't blink as the man gave him the once-over after looking at the documents for a few moments.

'Britain is sealed off; she is now on lockdown. Only under specific circumstances will travel be allowed,' The second officer said as he handed Snape his papers back and a pamphlet. 'This is the information you will need; take time to read it carefully.'

"We shall indeed," Snape replied with a nod.

The first officer slapped the top of the roof and directed them onto the ferry.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Esmé and Snape began to comprehend just how dangerous the situation really was. Despite the heavy snow it was apparent that the terminus was swarming with officers. But only Esmé knew that these were no ordinary police or immigration officers, these were Bastille Guards.

There were two more checkpoints, two more rounds of questions. Cars were randomly targeted for full inspection and the occupants were having all bags checked. Being French meant it was less likely that they would have to endure a hardcore inspection. That wouldn't have been the case in the first war; but things were different know, very different. Just how different neither Snape nor Esmé was to know just yet.

'Something isn't right about this, about any of it,' the former professor thought to himself.

One thing he felt certain of was that it had everything to do with the world he'd left behind. Snape glanced at Esmé, sensing the stress he was under no illusion that she had to be feeling. She handled herself well, though. Yet he did feel responsible because she had taken on so much – and it was all because of him. He wanted to convince himself that it made no sense why she was going to such lengths for a man she really didn't know. But it made just as much sense as why he hadn't fled when the rumours about her sister and D'Arcy surfaced.

They were approved for boarding as the sun crept over the horizon. There were bits of conversations that reached their ears and it made for disturbing news. House-to-house inspections were beginning to take place; any English who were not legal residents would be dealt with accordingly. Esmé had been right to return earlier than planned. There was no mistaking that if they had not become involved, Sebastian would have found himself deported back to England given his lack of papers. Snape didn't dare think of the consequences to his life if _that_ had happened.

Esmé drove into the bowels of the ferry and turned off the ignition. She started to speak and then noticed that even here, the guards were all over. It seemed that they might even outnumber the passengers allowed to travel. She looked over at him, and Snape noticed how pale and drawn she looked. He pulled down the cushion rest that had been up so that their two seats became one; Esmé slid into his arms and held him tightly.

They didn't dare speak until they passed through French immigration at the other end and were on the way to his new home.

**xxxOOOxxx**

It was snowing as hard in Northern France as it had been in Jersey, so there wasn't much for Snape to see. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between he and Esmé that they needed to get behind the relative safety of their own front door before entering into anything approximating a conversation. He did note that Esmé seemed to live in a valley outside of the ancient medieval city and she didn't have any immediate neighbours.

He peered out the window as they made their way slowly down what appeared to be a back road of some sort. It might as well been late afternoon it was so dark out. The overcast morning was made worse by the blizzard. The former Potions Master couldn't help but think how similar this was to his arrival in Jersey, except this time he was going to something and someone – and with an identity that offered him protection.

Snape glanced at Esmé as she navigated her way towards her house and into the garage. From what he could see it was a typical colombage native to the region. Such houses were generally very old and highly sought after by ex-pats and locals alike. She certainly seemed to have done quite well for herself despite the hardships she'd been through.

Within a few minutes her car was unpacked and she was showing him around the house. They walked down a small hallway on the ground floor and Esmé pointed out her small office and the washroom which contained just a toilet and washbowl. They walked by a locked door and she remained silent.

'And there…?' Snape asked.

'Oh, just a storage room – the floor in the attic isn't strong enough to hold much…' Esme replied blithely as they sailed past it.

They walked by a large window and Esmé pointed out the expansive garden and orchards that lay in the distance, all covered with a heavy blanket of snow. In total she had almost five acres of land with an option for five more.

They crossed the main hallway to the wetroom where their things were waiting.

'So – this is our house…' she said casually as she led him back upstairs to her bedroom, _their_ bedroom.

'Ours…?'

'Mmm hmm…'

They began to talk about the land and what she'd done with it so far, which wasn't very much. It was a welcome distraction from the events of the past few hours and the situation with her sister. Esmé wasn't a big fan of what Snape realised was Muggle medicine; she preferred natural remedies and wanted to have and extensive herbal garden, amongst other things. The former professor recognised instantly that she was talking about Herbology. Herbology was Herbology regardless of whether it was Muggle or Wizard; it was merely the plants that one worked with that were radically different. Still, there was some overlap.

'Even D'Arcy has an interest in Herbology,' Esmé said. 'I think he had some ideas about setting up greenhouses, but madame wasn't particularly keen…'

'Ahh – when I was at their home we had a brief discussion to that effect. I have a strong interest in it myself – and it seemed as though their might be some opportunity to enter into an arrangement with him in that regard. Your sister seemed to have a passing interest as well.'

'Yes – he sees the potential to make a lot of money by setting up an herbal medicine business. He could do quite well for himself – and especially with the right partner… Chris is interested in it, but she's quite rubbish when it comes to the practical side of things.'

'I don't think he had a partnership in mind. I would have been his employee, nothing more.'

The conversation changed to how they were dividing the space in the closet and the chests of drawers. Within an hour of his arrival, Snape was completely unpacked and seated in the living room with a mug of tea and two pains au chocolat. Esmé opened the doors of the large ornate armoire that housed the television, video and DVD players and a games console in the top half.

'I just want to check the news…' she sighed as she checked the time and turned on the televion.

She selected France5 and took a seat next to Snape. They watched for just over an hour, but there was no mention of the events in Britain and the Channel Islands and what was going on with the Ferries.

'Strange…' Snape muttered occasionally through swallows and bites of his food.

Esmé flipped through several other news reports, all of which had absolutely nothing on the situation.

'It might as well not be happening as far as the rest of the world is concerned…' Esmé said taughtly.

She could only think that she needed to talk to Christian sooner rather than later. Almost on cue, the phone began to ring. Esmé got up and picked up the digital handset that was in a drawer of the chest that served as her coffee table.

'Allo? Thank God it's you! Yes… I got back a few hours ago…' she said in rapid-fire French.

She got up and went to the kitchen, feeling Snape's eyes on her as she left the living room.

Snape sat tensely – not sure why he was filled with discomfort though he reasoned that this was Esmé's home and she had a life that had nothing to do with him. She was entitled to her privacy and to not include him in ever single aspect of her life. But he still was bothered – and he realised it was because she'd managed to get official French documents – and because of the connection that had to have brought it about. He wasn't a gambling man – but he was willing to bet that the person with whom she was speaking in such hushed tones was his latest saviour.

He was beholden yet someone else – and didn't like it.

Surely there would be a price to pay for this?


End file.
